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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x fem! reader [vol i, vol ii, vol iii, vol iv]

⚠️trigger warnings: mentions of a exual assault, accusations, mentions of domestic abuse, teenage drinking, panic attacks etc

w/c: 7.9k

a/n: s/o to all my favorite people helping me continuously with this series! @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington !! 💋💋💋💋💋

You’re spinning, spinning, spinning. If you couldn’t smell your own hair products on your pillow, you would swear that you were in a dystopian world, twirling like a frisbee through a pink blossomed sky and being caught in a three headed cat's mouth.

It’s true, hangovers get worse with age, but you were only twenty one— and they’re supposed to go up from here? What happened to ‘the best years of your life’? Whoever said that should be shot and killed on site. Stupid bastard.

Opening your eyes seems like the worst idea you could do, so you don’t. You slowly let your other senses bring you back to reality. You recognized that you were in your bed. Something soft is wrapped around you and judging by the feel of the fabric between your fingers it’s your robe.

A pungent smell of sour bile presents on your breath, one whiff of it and it’s instantaneous: vomit.

Fuck, that would explain the burning in your throat and the graveling dry sensation in your mouth

Pieces of the puzzle that was last night start fitting into place in your mind.

The drinks. The shots. The food. The clinking sound of ice in Steve’s Bloody Mary as he tipped it back and the ice swam towards his teeth, is like nails on a chalkboard.

Oh Christ how there had been so many drinks. Damn Robin and her mischievous ideas for wanting to do shots. Memories of the fiery tingle of the top shelf vodka Steve insisted on having, hitting your lips is enough to make you pass out.

The hollow feeling in your stomach gets queasy as you remember the greasy bar food served at Louie’s. Your stomach quenches, clutching around itself, ridding its salmon colored lining of the disastrous evening.

But nothing comes up. Just heaving dryly in your bed as tears escape your eyelids and your feet hit the floor. Throwing your body into a whirlwind of dizzy flips— your brain swimming in a sea of Diet Coke and Malibu, membranes bursting with the carbonated bubbles.

You’ve never needed a toothbrush more than you do right at this very second. You stand and the world feels like its raging war on your head. Pulsing and throbbing, like a concert was playing in your head and the guitar solo never ended.

You open your door and are met with the thought of how the fuck did you get here last night? Fuck it, you’d ask questions later, for now you needed to empty your bladder and brush your teeth.

As soon as you lay a hand on the bathroom door, Eddie emerges from his bedroom. Sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips and purpling hickies decorate his neck. He’s rubbing his eyes but when he catches sight of you he smiles lazily.

“Holy hell,” Eddie quips, eyes scanning over your body. You robe is hanging loosely off one shoulder, it’s crooked but the tie is in place covering your lower half. They land on the wild mess of hair atop your head, “normally I’d say good morning but it’s—“ he leans back into his room to look at his alarm clock, chuckling at the realization, “—two in the afternoon.”

You don’t fight Eddie for the shower, too tired and weak to argue. You fumble through the medicine cabinet finding the ibuprofen and the Disney cup with the swirly straw on the sink, filling it and taking the slick coated medicine. Swallowing harshly, your throat still raw and aching.

You settle for brushing your teeth while Eddie is in the shower. He’s singing Teen Spirit and getting louder and louder. The circles of the vigorous brushing of your teeth mixed with Eddie’s singing are making your head pound. A long look in the mirror leaves you suddenly feeling embarrassed, as if you needed to look drop dead gorgeous at every single minute you’re around him.

What the hell is going on?

“Please,” you beg, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink, “for the love of everything holy— stop.”

The screeching noise of the shower curtain rings being pulled back pull your head up as you see Eddie half naked, torso covered in soap and your loofah in his hand, the dripping curls on his head turned to long waves with the weight of the water.

“Don’t act like I don’t sing like an angel, sweetheart,” he says with a wink, “besides, lying is not good for your health.”

The suds are traveling south, further and further and further downward, your eye fixated on one particular bubble as it pops right at his belly button.

You train your eyes on his, your cheeks heat from your staring. You reach up and shut the curtain.

“I wasn’t saying you sound bad—I just feel like my head is going to implode.”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “want me to sing you a lullaby? I’d put your baby ass to sleep just like I did last night.”

A million different scenarios flood your mind of what happened last night.

Did you kiss him? You remembering staring at his lips, the soft pillowy pinks, the way his tongue peak—

Oh fuck.

Are the hickies on his neck from you? His Adam apple bobs as he swallowed.

Shit.

Did you sleep together? Blankets, over your head.

What the fuck?

Where are your pants? You can’t even remember what pants you were wearing.

Where’s your car? Did you drive home?

Did Eddie pick you up from the bar?

Did he see you puke? You faintly remember puking on the floor of the front seat of a vehicle.

Your head continues to spin as you sit on the edge of the closed toilet seat. Suddenly feeling violated and disgusting.

“Tooty?” Eddie’s voice rings out.

This time you’re the one throwing open the curtain. Ignoring him as he shields himself with your loofah and his arm. “Jesus Chr—!“

“How fucking dare you!”

“What?!”

“You fucking pig, how could you do that to me!”

“Do what!” Eddie yells back

Your tossing shampoo bottles and bars of soap at his naked body, he’s surprisingly agile, dodging every one.

“How could you sleep with me when I was that drunk?! Jesus Christ I can’t believe you! Why would you do that to me?!”

Tears well in your eyes, you can’t believe that someone you once trusted, and were getting used to trusting again, after only being able to confide in three people over the last five years, would do something so vile, so fucking awful.

“After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since I was a kid Eddie! I get drunk one time and you take it upon yourself to forc— “

“Tooty!” Eddie hollers, turning the water off to the shower and stepping around you out of the way to grab a towel, he wraps it around his waist and turns to face you again.

“I didn’t do anything to you.” His eyes are wild but filled with hurt, he lowers his voice, and backs away from you. “If you don’t believe me, call Harrington. I talked to him after I carried your drunk puking ass to your own bed last night!”

“Then where are my pants?! If you ‘didn’t do anything to me’ where are my pants at?!” Eddie heads into the kitchen and pulls the short overalls you were wearing off the back of a chair, still damp from the wash. He tosses them towards you and they land at your feet.

“I washed them because you barfed all over them and I thought you would appreciate them being cleaned instead of in a vomit covered ball on the bathroom floor!”

Your accusations sting his eyes, and burn his nose.

You blink rapidly and rack your brain, the blurry sight of Steve’s car covered in puke comes into view. You struggling to get your clothes off alone in the bathroom. One? Or maybe two girls yelling at him as his back is turned to you, Eddie’s honey dripped voice talking to you as you throw up into the toilet, cheek nestled against the seat. And finally, the feel of his chest on your cheek as he carries you to your room, arms and hands never touching you inappropriately.

Before you can apologize Eddie is thrusting the cordless phone into your palm, Steve’s voice faintly heard from the speaker. He turns with a huff and not another look towards you as he slams his bedroom door shaking the frame.

Shutting your bedroom door, Eddie hangs his head, his forehead and one palm on the door, a small smile gracing his lips. His head is spinning, he’s not drunk, in fact he only had one beer tonight, right before their set started.

What is this feeling inside of him? Butterflies in his stomach? Nah, that shit was juvenile. He could only pray that it was indigestion, nothing a couple gulps from a Pepto Bismol bottle couldn’t fix. But he couldn’t deny it.

The instinctual gut feeling of needing to protect you rang true all day. He was ready to fight everyone and anyone who talked ill of you. He just couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t felt this protective of someone since his own mother. He didn’t even feel this way towards Chrissy, and they dated for almost a year.

He pulls his head from the door, wondering if he should have put you on your side so if you vomited in your sleep you wouldn’t choke. He shakes his head, removing his hand slowly down your door, letting his fingers hang to his side.

What is this? Why is he acting like a parent? He rubs his eyes and turns to go to bed, your wadded up overalls in his peripheral vision. Would it be weird? Him washing your clothes? It’s not like your panties were in here it was just the overalls. He could be a good guy, he could be a decent human being, for you— he’d be it all.

Stomping down the dingy, murky basement steps he quickly throws your overalls into the washing machine, adding way too much powdered Era but figuring it was better than having them stink like puke. Slamming the metal lid closed with a wonky bang, he trots back up the stairs.

Stomach grumbling and realizing the only thing he had to eat all day were the poptarts he packed for work, he opens the fridge. Inside sitting on a shelf is a fading spaghetti stained Tupperware, on the lid is a sticky note, and written in your beautiful loopy handwriting:

“Got off work early and made the Tater tot casserole. Warm it up in the microwave for a minute thirty, hope you had a good show tonight. -T ”

You didn’t always love when your clients canceled last minute, it meant money gone from your pocket and an annoying increasing anxiety building in your gut when bills showed up. But today, you could actually enjoy the sun's rays on your shoulders for a bit as you drove down the streets of Hawkins, stopping at Bradleys Big Buys to get a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup.

Pushing the cart through the aisles you found the two items you came for, hoping to make it home early so that you could make the casserole before Eddie played tonight, or maybe he could enjoy it when he got home.

Cooking for someone was a labor of love, the simplest act of kindness anyone could offer. That’s what Karen Wheeler had taught you when she would spend her Saturday’s teaching you and Nancy how to cook good hearty meals that would last a while so you wouldn’t starve in college.

“And someone enjoying the food you cook? Girls, that’s the best feeling in the world.”

She wasn’t lying. Even that first week with the lasagna when Eddie had basically came in his pants with every bite, you felt a skip in your chest.

It was the least you could do after he gave you a sense of calm whenever he was around. You didn’t trust many people. Not after what happened. In fact Nancy, Steve and Robin were the only people you could put any sort of hope in.

After browning the ground beef with an chopped onion and mixing the canned ingredients together, you season the mixture with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. One last wipe around the bowl with your spatula and it was good to go. Spreading the mixture into a greased 9 x 13 inch pan and added shredded cheese, you line the tater tots across in horizontal rows and toss it in the oven, covering the dish with tinfoil.

Steve confirms everything that had happened. Even down to the minor details of you calling him ‘Steeb’. You feel stupid. Your stomach sank when he said that Eddie had stayed up all night making sure your overalls were clean and that you weren’t choking on your vomit.

“He’s a good dude, Tooty,” he explains, “he’s a perv and a complete douche most of the time, but he would never in a million years do that to someone, especially you.”

“…I know.”

“But do you?” Steve prods, “you said so yourself that he kinda looked out for you, almost better than your own brother did.”

“He did— but that’s just because I was with Chrissy’s brother and he was dating Chrissy.”

“That doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s a good guy— someone trustworthy. Make it right.”

With that Steve hung up.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like a big pile of shit for what you did. Eddie wouldn’t understand. How could he? You blatantly accused him of doing something that you know in your heart and in your soul that he never could have done. Tears drop from your eyes and into your palms. You allow yourself to cry, something you hated doing, for a few minutes. Angry with yourself for the wrong that you did, but also hurting from the past. When your eyes were puffy and snot was sliding from your nose, you call it quits. Fanning your face you realize you still haven’t taken a shower yet this morning.

Making your way to the bathroom, you turn your head towards Eddie door, Steve was right, you needed to fix this.

But how?

The shower was exactly what you needed. The scald from the water was helping ooze the booze from your pores as your dehydrated body soaked it up. Eddie didn’t deserve your harsh words, your accusatory statements, the way his face fell in horror when you screamed at him was burned into your memories, something you saw whenever your eyes were closed. You sit on the floor of the shower. You couldn’t tell him what was going on, you were stronger than that. You didn’t need his sympathy, his pity parade, you would get through this on your own just like you always had. You may have been wrong and and you should probably apologize but you dismiss the idea. What the hell does Steve Harrington know about it?

Eddie bangs on the door, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You holler out.

“Hurry up so we can go get your car before you accuse me of stealing that too.” His voice is angry and hurt. Finishing up in the shower you leave the bathroom to see an impatient Eddie huffing around the living room, looking at his empty wrist as if he wore a watch and throwing his hands in the air.

“Christ will you hurry the fuck up? I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh fucking relax,” you pout, slamming your door and toweling off. You settle for a pair of denim shorts and a cotton t-shirt. When you reach for the comb to untangle your hair you hear obnoxious honking.

He wouldn’t.

Eddie is sitting in the van laying on the horn. Grabbing your ratty white keds you fly through the house, grabbing your purse and combing your hair as you fling yourself through the door. The pavement is hot on your feet, an exceptionally warm day for September. The hot sun and humid temperatures are the worst mix for a hangover.

Indian summer in full swing.

“Fuck I’m right here, knock it off!” He’s staring at you with dead eyes, hand planted on the horn until you slide your ass onto the cracked leather seat.

Without another word he throws the van in reverse and reaches a hand over to your headrest twisting his body, the cut off flannel he is wearing isn’t buttoned, the powdery musk of his deodorant burns your nose.

Nothing has changed with the old van, tape decks are still littered across the dash, stumped out in the cup holder are a mountain of cigarettes and joints. Too many pine scented Little Trees hanging from the rearview doing a horrible job of hiding the smell of weed. Judas Priest screams through the speakers. You place a foot on the dash to get your shoe on when suddenly you are lurching forward. Eddie taps the brakes.

“No feet on the dash.”

You set your face in a scowl, words bitter on your tongue, “yeah, cause my shoe is really going to hurt the value of this piece of shit. I’m just putting my fucking shoe on since some asshole with a small dick complex couldn’t wait five minutes.”

A mocking chuckle escapes Eddie’s throat, “you really are such a pleasure to be around, how did I get this lucky?.”

“And you’re such a prick,” you seethe, bending over and tying your shoe, “why did you even answer my ad in the paper? All we do is fight because you fucking hate me.”

He’s had enough, slamming his foot onto the pedal, Eddie turns towards you and spits, “Do you really think of me like that? A predator? Someone who would move in with you just to violate you the second you pass out?”

“No I—“

“All the years you’ve known me, you think I’d just up and turn into a fucking rapist?!”

“Jesus Christ Eddie!“

“No, I wanna know, right now,” he turns to you, eyes angry and filled with hurt, “do you get off on this shit? Treating people like they’re nothing? Automatically assuming the worst about someone because of where they grew up? I’m not like that Tooty, I’m not like my—“ he stops himself, pushing his tongue to his cheek, “you are not the girl I knew. I don’t even fucking recognize you.”

“The girl you knew was fourteen, Eddie! My biggest problem back then was wondering who I could convince to buy Boonesfarm for the weekend rager, shit changed. I changed! I had to adapt to shit that was way out of my control. And you don’t even know half of it!”

“You’re right, I don’t and I bet if I were to ask, you wouldn’t even tell me, so fuck it, where am I going?”

“What?”

“I can’t read your mind, where is your car parked?”

You tell him. And as soon as you pull alongside Louie’s and beside your car, you realize you don’t have the keys.

“Open the door. Get out.” Eddie spits in a condescending tone.

Looking at him and smiling, with an extra side of cunt you sing, “I don’t have my keys.”

“Of fucking course.”

Lighting up a cigarette and cranking the wheel Eddie flies through Hawkins. He misses the turn on Kerley to get back home. “Missed the turn,” you announce, putting your other shoe on.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs lips tight in a line and exhaling through his nose. “Groceries.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Eddie parks, taking up for spots, a tire in each one, before the van even stops moving he’s already out and slamming the door, flicking his cigarette across the parking lot. The heat of the day already high.

Finishing lacing up your other shoe you run across the parking lot to catch up to him. He already has a cart and is whizzing through the aisles before you finally see him. Reaching into your purse you unfold the list and take a look at it.

Dunakaroos

Twizzlers

Gobstoppers

Spaghetti o’s

Bologna

Mayo— NOT MIRACLE WHIP! And no it’s not for that.

Lotion, yes for that 😉

the soft bread, not the brown one.

Carton of reds

Case of Busch Light.

Sunny D

Red kool aid

Hot dogs

Cocoa Puffs

Sliced cheese

Baby food since you think I’m a child (just kidding, don’t be mad)

whatever chips you got with that salsa the one time

My milk— not that skim shit you drink

Your milk— the skim shit

Mac n Cheese

“What kind of a fucking list is this? Most of this shit is snacks.”

“Oh for fucks sake, what are you pissed about now?” Eddie says, dumping two bags of marshmallows into the cart.

You’ve never met a twenty-six year old that ate like he was dining at Willy Wonka’s Factory every night.

“Not a single fruit or vegetable!” You say, waving the list in his face.

“I smoke green, I don’t eat it. Unless you wanna make some pot brownies, I’d eat the shit out of those.” He throws a box of brownie mix into the cart for good measure.

You yank the cart from his hands and turn around, heading back to the produce aisle. He huffs when you place a paper bag of apples neatly in the cart, whines when the bananas sit by your purse, and almost passed out when the tomatoes and a head of lettuce make their way into the cart.

“You’re such a baby! Literally an overgrown man child in the flesh.” He’s walking in front of you mimicking you and whoops! The cart may have slipped out of your hands and made a fleeting dash towards his Achilles tendon, banging against.

“Ouch, Jesus Christ!” Eddie groans under his breath, holding his leg he glares towards you, shooting daggers.

“It slipped,” you smirk.

He scoffs and turns on his heel walking away. You finish in the produce aisle, looking through the boxes of noodles and calculating what you could make for dinner this week. Eddie comes back arms full, you only see his hair sticking out on each side of the three boxes of cereal, a 10 lb ham and seven tubes of cinnamon rolls. He drops them all into the cart with a heavy thud.

After crossing everything off the list and getting a few more things despite Eddie’s protesting exhales, you have a cart full. He seems to have calmed down by the time you make it to the beer fridge, taking two thirty packs of Busch Light and putting them on the bottom of the cart, he rips the side of one of them open and takes a can out. Cracking it open in the middle of the store, downing it. The light colored lager is spilling down his chin, into the collar of his open shirt. He tosses it into a lady’s cart as she’s walking past, wiping the foam from his lips and belching loudly.

You roll your eyes, “You can’t wait until we’re home?”

“What?” He says, looking at you with a stupid grin, “I’m gonna pay for it.”

Waiting in the checkout aisle he cracks another one as he unloads the groceries onto the conveyor belt with one hand. Tossing most of the items onto the belt and grabbing another beer and chugging it. The checkout lady puts her nose in the air and huffs a disapproving grunt.

“I was thirsty.”

“You’re so imp—” your insult is cut short when your eyes sweep over him.

It had been a full two years since you had seen him last. His blonde hair was combed to the side like it always was. The blue of his icy eyes still burned holes through you like dry ice to the exposed skin. The navy blue suit jacket and white Oxford shirt with a red patterned tie and the tan khakis he was wearing suggested he was coming from a late Sunday brunch after church. Awful crippling memories of spending hours ironing those pants to make sure the creases were perfect cloud your memory, you unconsciously hold the two fingers on your left hand, the ones that held misshaped triangle burn scars.

You don’t realize that Eddie is talking or that you’ve stopped moving until the shape of his curly head shakes in front of you. Your breath is hitched in your chest, you feel small. Physically and mentally.

Two years without seeing the face that was the sole purpose of most of the fear in your life. Two years without seeing the demon grin and crazy twitch in his eye. You were frozen in place and your blood ran cold.

It was evil in its truest form. Standing in the checkout behind you— stood Chad Cunningham.

Eddie couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on. Putting the grocery sacks in the cart, he turns to look in your line of vision. He doesn’t recognize him at first. But the strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes ran in the Cunningham blood. He was with a woman, who was so obviously pregnant she seemed like she was about to burst. Judging from the horrific way your eyes were bulged out of your head and the way your body was almost catatonic, Eddie figured it was time to get the fuck out of here. Reaching in his pocket for his wallet he paid the cashier and impatiently waited for the change, keeping his eyes on you.

You were trembling with fear. Not from the sudden run in with an ex but something much deeper than that. Eddie places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes, “let’s go sweetheart,” he whispers gently, he crowds behind you and puts a small hand on your back, guiding you forward towards the automatic doors. Eddie keeps his head on a swivel for Chad.

The woman who was with him was waddling towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving your body. As soon as she was out of ear shot, Chad puffed out his chest and said, “Lookin’ good honey bun, I will say though, the downgrade,” he points to Eddie, “..yikes.”

The nickname made your skin crawl. You never liked it, and he knew that. He only said it to get a rise out of you, which was successful. “See you soon,” he gloated, smiling with perfectly straight teeth, eyes never meeting his smile.

You don’t make it five feet outside before the shock wears off and the tears stream down your face in salty waves. Eddie takes control of the cart with his left hand and ushers you forward with his right, minimal pressure on the small of your back as he keeps his head on a swivel, dark curtain of curls crowding his eyes as he moves his head around.

Unlocking the doors he helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and saying he’d be back in thirty seconds. The back doors of the van fly open as Eddie all but tosses the groceries into the back. At thirty seconds exactly, Eddie is back in the van, starting it and roaring out of the parking lot.

He still didn’t know what happened with Chad, but it wouldn’t take an absolute idiot to know that it was bad. Really fucking bad. He looks over to you and your head is stuffed into your shirt, your knees under your chin and you’re rocking back and forth on the seat.

“Five minutes, Tooty— we’ll be home in less than five minutes, okay?” Eddie says, frantically. He’s trying to stay calm. Trying to be the voice of reason, composed and serene. But he is horrified. Scared to death at how you responded to seeing Chad. How your body froze up and your face looked as if you weren’t breathing. Even now, hearing you gasp for air as your body shook and swayed with each turn he made. He slams on the gas, pausing slightly at stop signs and ignoring any yield signs.

He parks in the driveway, coming around to help you out of the van. Just like he did last night, he carries you, only this time you remember it. Your body is shaking violently, chest racked with sobs. His chest is wet with tears from your face being buried into it. He’s whispering to you that everything will be okay. Opening the door he kicks it shut with his boot. He brings you into your room and sits you on your bed, you’re cradled in his lap, like a parent would hold a child. He caresses your head, holding you closer to him. His warm breath in your hair grounds you. You feel him lean forward grabbing on your nightstand for something, the phone.

He dials the number without even thinking. Waiting impatiently on the other end as a familiar voice answers.

“Hello?” Steve breathes boredly into the phone.

Eddie sighs with relief, “Harrington, it’s me.”

“Oh God, listen dude I don’t know what to te—“

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie interrupts, “listen—something, happened.”

Steve almost chokes on his popcorn, frantically firing off questions. “What? What’s going on? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“Ye—no, I mean—“ Eddie is stuttering and trying to explain, “we ran into Chad at the gro—“

“I’m on my way!”

The line goes dead and Eddie hears dial tone. He sets the phone back in the holder and wraps a blanket around you. Your heart is racing and you can’t even form words. You haven’t had a panic attack in over a year. It feels like the world is crashing in on you, the walls are tight and shrinking, the whole room feels smaller by the minute. Eddie’s voice is gentle and soothing, like a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” He murmurs, “try to match your breathing with mine.” He remembers what he was taught as a kid. His emotions always ran high and Wayne would have to settle him down, get him to take deep breaths.

He’s rubbing soft circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth. You try to speak but all that comes out are gasps and the whirling noise of sharp intake of breath.

Steve and Robin make it to the house in record time, running to your room and taking everything in. Your disheveled appearance brings Steve to his knees in front of Eddie. Grabbing your hand and squeezing letting you know it was going to be okay.

You slide off Eddie’s lap and lay on the bed, curled in a ball. Robin lays beside you. Brushing your hair from your face with her fingers.

Steve pulls Eddie out of your room with great force he didn’t want to leave but he didn’t know how to help.

“I’m sorry— fuck man, I’m sorry for calling you — I just— she just locked up. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t move!” He runs his hands down his face, trying to will the tears away. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, give yourself a break, you got her home, she’s safe,” Steve says patting Eddie on the back, “so explain what happened.”

Eddie begins explaining from when you both got to the grocery store. He goes into detail how distraught you seemed, how your body was rigid and full of fear. The burn of tears threatening to spill from his eyes has him blinking quick before they fall. Steve listens intently, face warped with shock and disbelief.

Throwing his head back and running his hands down his face Steve lets out a loud exhale and throws his hands on his hips, “fuck I hate that guy.”

“Yeah he seems like a fucking psycho,” Eddie agrees, “but what the fuck is going on?! I mean yeah they dated but, I don’t stiff up like that when I run into Chrissy or Trish.”

A shiver runs down his spine as he thinks of how upset you were, your body crumbling with fear the minute you made it into the van. Anxiety trickling through your body like electricity to a wire. He hated to admit it but he was scared for you.

Remembering the groceries in the back of the van, the two guys brave the sweltering heat to retrieve them. Eddie starts to put the items away, Steve rolls his eyes watching him put the canned items in the small cabinet designed for spices, the endless snacks he purchased thrown on the counter nestled up against the flour canister and slamming the lettuce into the fridge like a bowling ball.

Eddie could give a rats ass where the things went, he was worried and getting a headache from wondering if you were going to be okay. Half thinking he should find where good ol Chad lived and pay him a nice little visit. Only three tires slashed and the insurance won’t cover it.

Throwing the groceries sacks in the garbage and making his way to the living room, sitting down on the couch, he sits with his elbows on his knees, bouncing them in quick repetitions. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or should I put a paper fortune teller on my fingers and we can decide what’s wrong with Tooty with the help of crayola markers?”

The wailing cries and sobs have dissipated in the last half hour, only Robin’s soothing words can be heard now.

“Dude, it’s not my place to say,” Steve says, “it’s one thing to tell you about her parents and Kevin, but this—“ he takes another deep breath, running his hands through his thick tufts of hair, “this is 100 times worse than that,” Steve explains lowering his head.

“…But you’re right, you’re her roommate and you should know what happened.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, silently agreeing with everything Steve had said. Standing quickly and pacing around the living room, his mind is running a million miles a minute. The fight you two had didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered to him in this moment— the only thing on his mind for the past twelve hours— was you.

Steve stands and runs his fingers through his hair, placing his hands on the waist of the old fading green gym shorts he was wearing. “I’m gonna go talk to her, and when you guys are done, I’m gonna make you guys something to eat. I’m sure you idiots haven’t eaten today given the timing of when shit hit the fan.”

Eddie nods again, biting the fingernails on his right hand until they bled, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a teen, facing possible jail time for destructing private property when he spray painted, “Your mom swallowed EM’s monster cock” on the front doors of Hawkins High. He was pacing, itching for a cigarette. Pulling the pack from his flannel breast pocket he goes outside and sits on the concrete steps, lighting up.

Three squashed cigarette butts sit next to him on the step before Steve finds him. Eddie stands and stubs the cigarette out blowing smoke out of the crooked twist of his lips away from Steve’s face. The nicotine helped take the edge off but he was still anxious, fidgeting his rings.

“H-how is she?” Eddie asks apprehensively, “can I talk to her?”

“She’s better, taking deep breaths and relaxing as best as he can, she’s gonna explain everything, just give her space— let her talk and don’t ask anything until she’s finished.”

“Yeah, ‘f course.”

“Alright. Robin is gonna help me make supper,” Steve says holding opening the front door, face in a grimace he jokes, “wish me luck.”

Eddie was the one who thought he himself needed the luck, he was scared shitless that you were afraid of him.

He walks gently to your room and knocks softly on the door with one knuckle, palm facing him. He remembers just hours ago how he was standing at this very door, and how very different he felt then.

“Come in,” Robin chirps.

Eddie takes a quick breath holding it as he steps foot into your room. You’re sitting on your bed cross legged, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your eyes are red rimmed and tissues surrounding you, a cemetery of drying tears. You look at him and muster a smile, a twitch of your lips raising at the corners.

“Well, I’m needed as a sous chef in kitchen a la Harrington,” Robin says brightly, standing from the bed and skipping towards the door. When she passes Eddie she touches his arm squeezing and giving him a reassuring nod.

Eddie stands with his hands stuffed in his pockets as the door clicks shut. You both don’t say anything for a while, you’re twirling the end of the pillowcase in your lap and he’s burning holes with his eyes into the carpet.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you say quietly, “I’m—“ your voice catches in your throat, sore from the the wailing, “I’m hoping that when I’m done telling you, you’ll be able to understand..”

He nods and leans against the wall. Hands wrapped around his triceps.

“Before I explain— I just need you to know that only Robin, Steve, Nancy, and her parents know about this— not my parents, or Kev or anyone else— and now you.

Eddie’s face is full of concern, he whispers an “okay,” and you continue.

“I can’t remember but I’m pretty sure that you and Chrissy started dating around the same time that Chad and I did, and as you remember I’m sure, Chad and I were together almost all the time. When you graduated, and my sophomore year was the year my parents moved away— things changed with him. He was suddenly callous about everything, needing control of who I was with and when. Mostly he was pissed that I was staying with the Wheeler’s. He always thought I was cheating on him with Mike.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, the Mike Wheeler he knew wouldn’t know what to do if a chick laid butt naked in his bed. Probably piss himself.

You work the corner of the pillow case in your fingers as you keep going, “The first time he hit me was on a night that I told him I couldn’t hang out because Mrs. Wheeler wanted everyone home for supper. He called me a slut and told me that I should just go and fuck Mike already even though he knew I wasn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker with anger when you admit that Chad hit you, his fists clenched together tightly. With your head down and looking away from him you continue, your voice wobbly.

“We didn’t even have sex yet, at that time, I wasn’t ready. After he hit me, I thought we should break up. He followed me around, begging me to take him back and like the naive kid that I was, I did. He would be sweet for a few weeks, and then it was like a flip would switch and he’d back hand me for giving Lucas a pencil during History, pulled my hair out in chunks when Mike brought me to school, he even choked me until I passed out when Dustin sat next to me at lunch. He was extremely jealous of everyone around him, and couldn’t handle seeing anyone he didn’t ‘approve of’ be near me. He hated that I worked at Family Video, he would show up almost every shift and wait in the store for me to clock out, even threatening to kick Steve’s ass on more than one occasion. He finally gave up on that when I told him Steve was dating Robin, just so I could go to work in peace.”

Eddie’s gut is rolling, the anger boiling in his blood, his nostrils are flared, it is taking everything in him to not react the way he wants to, a simple trailer park style beating to Chad’s car, his face, whatever would hurt the little prick more. Heads would fucking roll if Eddie ever got ahold of him.

“It didn’t end there. Like I said, we weren’t having sex because I wasn’t ready, I had enough shit going on with my parents up and leaving and buying all the concealer that Melvald’s carried to cover up the bruises.”

You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears for as long as you could. Chewing the inside of your lip and un crossing your legs, bringing your knees to your chest you continue.

“Af—After prom our junior year, we were driving around and he was drinking, I just wanted to go home but he didn’t. He parked way outside of town on the south side, on some dead end road… I mouthed off to him about how cliche it was to lose our virginities on prom night and the next thing I knew,” your voice pitches to a high volume, your lips are tight as you remember the pain you felt in your head from him knocking you out, the way his hands were groping your body, “I was waking up to him on top of me, and inside of me.”

The dam breaks, the tears fall from your eyes like rain in the spring time. You throw your head back against your headboard and sniff loudly, your palms pressed to your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he’s afraid if he tried to comfort you it would only cause you more pain. Against his better judgment he stands and walks towards the bed, scooting across the lavender bedspread he sits across from you, reaching for your ankle and tenderly squeezing it, letting you know that he was there.

“I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life then when I was dating him,” you sniffle and reach for the tissues, blowing your nose loudly, “Eddie, this went on for years, it didn’t fucking stop. After senior year, he didn’t want me to go to college, because I would be too far away from him, and we argued and he kicked me out on the opposite side of town with two swelling black eyes. By the time I made it back to the Wheeler’s, my eyes were almost shut. That night, I told Ted and a very hysterical, Karen everything, and they called the cops. Of course, Tim Cunningham was the state prosecutor at the time, so it didn’t go far— Hop did what he could but there was never any judgment made against Chad, and everything was over after that.”

“I went to beauty school with Nance, and when we moved back home, I was living in the little apartments off of Sawmill Road, he found out where I was and broke in, luckily Steve and Robin were my neighbors so they heard everything and came running before he could hurt me.

“After that.. Ted and Karen bought this place for Nancy and I and last year I saved up enough and bought it from them. Last I heard, Chad had moved to Indianapolis and was working for his uncle at the law firm until he finished school. I haven’t seen him in over two years— anyway,” you finish, wiping your eyes, and blowing your nose once more, “that’s the story.”

Eddie doesn’t know where to begin, he partially is taking the blame for what happened to you, knowing that if he were there, if he had stuck it out with Chrissy maybe he could have seen the signs, maybe he could have stopped it before it ever started, maybe he could have put that little fucker in his place and made him think twice about ever touching you again. He’s full of regret, full of shame and turmoil as he thinks about how you must have been feeling this morning.

“Oh, Tooty.” Eddie starts his eyes glistening with wetness, heart aching for you, “I’m so sorry, Jesus Christ, I— I don’t even… Fuck! I should have been around.”

“There wasn’t anything anyone could have done— he’s a lunatic.” You take a breath and look down at his hand on your ankle, abandoning the thought of reaching for it at the last minute, “I know you would never do something to hurt me, or anyone— I’m sorry about last night Eddie. I just, I don’t ever get drunk enough to not remember what happened. Not after the shit I’ve been through. ” You fold your arms into your self, wrapping around your ribs, in a small voice you whisper, “and today when I couldn’t remember, I was fucking terrified—going right back to how I felt that night when I was sixteen.”

In the van today, he fully intended on chewing you out, making you feel about three inches tall. He had been accused of many different things during his teenage years. Hell he even spent a night or two in jail after fighting a guy in Indianapolis when he threw a beer at Gareth. But one thing Wayne taught him was to respect women. Sure he wasn’t the average guy, his lever leaned a little further towards pervert than most. But he would never hurt a woman. The way you looked right now scared him. Like you were afraid to be near him. Unsure if he would scream at you or worse. And it broke his heart.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward, finger dipping under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking right at him. A fresh brim of tears clung to your lashes, “as long as I’m here, being the thorn in your side, pain in the ass, good looking mother fucker that I am— you don’t ever have to be scared again.”

You shutter, body exhausted and giving in, letting the tears fall.

“Promise?”

Your doe eyes are wet and staring into his, the swirling chocolate of his eyes, melted as he looks into your soul. Shedding any walls around his heart, baring himself of his discretions, his eyes are deeper than the galaxy. You swear you’ve never seen anything prettier in your life. You can feel your frigid heart thawing for the first time in years.

“Always.”

You never thought a single word could have so much meaning, a sense of security washed over you with Eddie’s promising word. A silent devotion from his eyes of keeping you safe and out of harm's way. You felt your soul open up to him. A higher power bringing you closer to him. You reach down and grab his hand. Rubbing the rough knuckles and tracing the rings on his fingers. An angel’s smile dances on Eddie’s lips. He decides right there, in that moment, that he would be whatever you needed. For as long as you needed him. Because he needed you.

///

SEE YOU IN VOLUME VI

a/n: hope you enjoyed this, it was a little rough but the next chapter is pure fluff 💋

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #honey i’m home

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dollfaced-erin · 4 months

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𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 16

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15

A/n :-

how has everyone been since i was gone ?? i hope you all have been doing okay !! i was trying to do requests but i was WHOLLY stumped so i had to take some time off from writing to refresh myself a bit so sorry i didnt update about my past hiatus ! Another thing im not sure if i mentioned before, but Dan Jia-(Y/n) is about the tall woman model size, but would be shortest amongst all of them !

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman , @samptlay , @boomie-123

(Y/n) felt baffled from what Kafka had told her. For a Mara-stricken individual, he managed to maintain more than just a shred of his sanity, his senses, and his distant memories where most involved would've been buried deep in their graves.

All maintained by a simple desire, a longing to see a beloved he had left behind so unwillingly. The cradle of arms he fled from as soon as things had fallen from their originally planned course.

(Y/n) left Kafka's questioning to someone else, and she moved away to ponder on her thoughts and opinions. Her heart was heavy with guilt and misery, feeling empty and lonely. Her steps were hollow and light, walking off without a motive.

Perhaps it was the Dan Jia in her heart that longed for the arms of her lover's embrace...? Could that still be possible despite her accepting the fact that Dan Jia was once her past and she had learned to let go of the past, Dan Jia still had longings ?

Or...was it herself that yearned for what she once had, with a lover reformed anew ?

(Y/n) admitted that she indeed longed for Blade, his arms and warmth bringing her great comfort and familiarity. She admitted that perhaps there was a longing for his renewed self to be with her as they once were, but was that what she really wanted...?

All he wanted was to go home and rest...

And all she wanted was to dance again under the moonlight...

But what about Jing Yuan...?

She couldn't just leave him. She didn't have the heart to. Not after what he had done for her before and after her slumber...

But if the time came to choose...

She would choose--

"Lady (Y/n) !" a voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

The dragon lady immediately turned around to face the voice that called for her, and there was the Fu Xuan, looking straight at her and coming up to the taller lady.

"Fu Xuan." (Y/n) greeted with a nod of her head. She knew what the Master Diviner wanted to ask her. It was an itching question that everyone who saw what Fu Xuan did and heard what Kafka said clearly had the same questions.

What was her connection to Blade...?

"I'm sorry if it stirs up...distant woes..." Fu Xuan began, feeling a little hesitant to ask the question plaguing her mind.

"B-but I hope you understand the utmost importance of this information ! It's for the safety of--!" "Worry not, Master Diviner." (Y/n) said softly, her gaze softening as her luminescent (e/c) eyes landed on the pink haired lady, who was usually so composed, now reduced to a stuttering mess in her presence.

"I...was Blade's past lover. Well...Dan Jia was." (Y/n) said, a hand on her heart that beat so distantly in her chest. She felt a gnawing void eating away inside her, so she moved her hand to the accessory dangling by her pointed ear, fiddling with it with her fingers.

"The legend of the lovers under the moon...isn't merely a legend, you know ?" She said with a silent sigh, a distant look in her eyes.

It was a legend. It was widely believed to be true, a strong belief amongst the commonfolk to never overstep the boundaries of interracial romance, lest they befall the pain of separation due to the differences in their lifespans.

The legend was indeed true, but it wasn't the entire truth either. It was a forged story to show the disastrous end of the lovers. The one that died. And the other that fell into madness. It served as a warning to remind them. But of course, it was treated as a tragic love story and had young lovers to be daring like the heroes in the tale.

"But Lady (Y/n)-- AH!"

The ground beneath them shook, a loud rumbling filled their ears along with sharp gusts of wind whizzing past them. The wind was exceptionally dangerous, most of them struggling to keep their eyes open.

"Lady Fu Xuan !" (Y/n) called out, reaching for Fu Xuan's hand to help stabilize their stance on the shaking platform.

That was...before she heard Tingyun shout over the gusts.

"Th-The Ambrosial Arbor !"

(Y/n)'s head whipped from looking at the Master Diviner to the direction where the dormant tree would've been. And she gasped, the sight before her sending cold chills down her spine.

She had never seen this before. Not in all her hundreds of years living.

The tree that had been subdued for eons...was growing again. The trunk got taller and taller, gold substance running through its veins with power and life. Fiery golden leaves sprouted and combust into eternal flame, lighting up the sky with green-yellow fire that could never be put out. Some began to shed, its eerie golden sheen making it seem like it was gold leaves instead of fruit of the forbidden. Words began to hang from the trees like large talismans, words of immortality and curses in headlines.

Screams of civilians were loud and heard from the streets, the divination commission, filled with terror and question and horror. No one had ever foreseen the signs of the tree, feeding seeds of terror like plague spreading.

But this was indeed the sign of the Abundance. The forbidden seed that the Plagues Author Yaoshi had planted. And it was blooming again.

Stelle looked at the tree in concern, though she knew little of its origin and its representation. The Stellaron Hunter behind her smirked, already anticipating this from the anonymous source, Destiny's Slave.

Kafka chuckled, a sweet sound of her sigh as magenta eyes watched the chaos and discord surrounding her. The binds that held her wrists together snapped in a blink of an eye, without the littlest effort. She admired the state of her body and her clothes, before turning to head off without anyone noticing.

"Stelle !" (Y/n) exclaimed as when she rushed over and heard the sound of the chains snapping into nothingness. The female trailblazer perked up, turning to (Y/n) who pointed in direction to Kafka who was escaping without hesitation nor curiousity.

Just as she was about to catch up to Kafka, a figure with long dark hair landed between them, separating the two. The divine weapon in his gloved hand shone, the gold in the cracks glittering in the dim lighting as the figure stood up.

Dangerous red eyes watched Stelle carefully, his blade pointed to the young woman menacingly. Then they landed on (Y/n), without a hint of surprise nor did he even try to search for her.

Blade knew she was there.

But (Y/n) was shocked to see him.

Lover or not, he was threatening the lives of the innocent, so she rushed forward and pushed the taller girl behind her, fan in her hand. She was ready to fight him should the need arise.

But looking into his tired but passionate eyes, she knew he had no intention to attack. Just standing still to serve as a warning.

"Let's go, Bladie~" the wine-red haired woman called out as she looked down from the platform they were standing on, as if to approximate the height of the platform to the main ground or to foreplan their landing.

"Two more places to visit..." the woman said, before turning around and falling off the ledge freely, arms widespread as she did.

Blade immediately put the shattered sword behind his back in a stance, giving (Y/n) one last longing glance. It seemed that he had more to say but out came no words nor did his mouth open to say the words he desired to whisper.

But they needed no words to be able to tell what he wanted to say.

"Stay out of this."

With that he swiftly left and dived down, following after Kafka.

The two swiftly landed on the ground and merely walked through the public without the need to hide nor camouflage. The revival of the Ambrosial Arbor served as the perfect distraction.

Kafka smiled and laughed softly as she walked past the guards and civilians, taking in the sweet feeling of fear, a feeling she wasn't able to experience herself. Then she saw her companion that looked a little less than usual.

"Oh, don't look so disdainful, Bladie...you'll get to see that princess soon than later." She said with a soft chuckle leaving her slightly chapped lips.

"No." The brooding man answered in a deep voice, as if holding back his own emotions and thoughts.

"I don't want her to get involved. I don't want her to get hurt."

"But with the path chosen, she'll have to get involved, whether she likes it or not." Kafka replied with a sorry smile on her lips.

Ah...lovebirds...

"Agh ! Did Kafka escape ? How are we supposed to explain this to the Master Diviner ?!" March groaned, looking down from the platform they stood on, then back to (Y/n) and Stelle.

"If what she said is true, then we wont have to explain anything." Stelle said, and (Y/n) who stood next to her nodded, a frustrated frown on her lips.

"H-hey ! D-did she brainwash you ?!"

(Y/n) chuckled softly and shook her head in amusement.

As they were heading back to meet up with the Master Diviner, who (Y/n) had left hanging a while ago due to the fear of the Stellaron Hunter running lose before them, they had met up with a certain foxian Amicassador who was standing on one of the bridges on the other end of the screens, staring at the tree in awe.

"Wasn't this the dead tree Qingque showed us earlier ? How did it grow all of a sudden ?" March asked as they watched the fiery tree blazing in the distance, fire eternally burning without leaving any ash nor dying out.

"Amazing ! Absolutely amazing !" Tingyun gasped, watching the Ambrosial Arbor with intense fascination in her eyes. "Even the long-lived might not witness something like this in their lifetime ! I'm incredibly lucky !"

(Y/n) could merely stare at the brunette, suspicion in her bright (e/c) eyes. Was this a normal reaction towards the plagues of abundance thriving ? She would've expected a more...horrified reaction, but...maybe that's youth these days ?

Perhaps they didn't really account towards the horrible meaning the tree represented. Nor the sacrifices made to keep it sealed deep down in waters...

"No. This isn't something to rejoice about." (Y/n) said sternly, glaring at the tree with hate and remorse. "This tree...is a plaguemark of the Plagues Author. And it was by no normal means was it revived. It was meant to stay dormant, and sealed."

"Such...extraordinary energy. It's no doubt the Stellaron." Welt said, stepping up and pushing up his glasses up his nose.

"Mr. Yang, do you mean...that the Stellaron is making the Ambrosial Arbor grow ?" March asked, looking at the older man who stood next to the former High Elder of the Xianzhou : Luofu.

"Yes, the Stellaron that the Cloud Knights are searching for must be causing this anomaly !" Welt said, looking at (Y/n) who looked oddly guilty, seeming restless.

She knew the reason for the seal growing weak. It was her own fault. But...

She looked at her own hands.

She alone isn't enough to seal the power. Her power is split into two, and she has no idea whether the authority still lied within her, or was it passed onto Bailu, the current High Elder...?

And she didn't know what happened after Imbibator Lunae's execution. Was he safe ? Where was he ? What did he look like now ?

Welt noticed the anxiousness of the woman next to him, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he tried not to startle her. He smiled warmly at her, nodding his head.

"Whatever the cause, we must first go meet Lady Fu Xuan." He said, looking straight into (Y/n)'s eyes.

Yes. That was exactly what they needed right now. So she nodded her head. Welt nodded again, relieved that she was alright and still within the zone.

So off they went, walking towards the inner gates of the Divination Commission to find Fu Xuan.

"Unless Kafka deceived the Matrix of Prescience..." Fu Xuan mumbled, putting her hand to her lips, anxiously biting on her thumb subconsciously.

"Stay calm, Master Fu, the Matrix of Prescience does not lie." Jing Yuan said softly. "The logic you laid out concerning Kafka makes sense-- it helped me fill in another piece of the puzzle."

"I agree that there is a hostile external force at work on the Luofu. The Stellaron didn't appear out of thin air-- someone managed to sneak it onto the ship." Jing Yuan explained to the anxious Master Diviner, but his own face looking grim and serious, noting that this wasn't something to be taken lightly.

"As for the culprits behind the Luofu's internal strive, I believe we are dealing with the so-called Disciples of Sanctus Medicus-- that shadowy organization of the Denizens of Abundance."

"Kafka's revelation's confirm my suspicions." Jing Yuan said with a nod of his head, a small smile on his lips.

But his insight was what shocked Fu Xuan instead of relieving her. "You..." She stuttered, thinking about her choice of words for a bit. "General, when did you have these suspicions ?"

This man surely wasn't a force to be taken lightly. But with that lazy gaze of his and his lack of enthusiasm for work made people look down on him or even disregard him as a threat.

But he wasn't the one of the seven Arbiter-Generals for nothing.

"The moment the planter of the Stellaron revealed themself." He said simply, crossing over his arms. "The Xianzhou has the blessing of the Reignbow Arbiter-- only another Aeon's Emanator would be capable of sneaking onto the ship without my knowing."

"We are dealing with an external threat."

"The Stellaron corrosion continues to flood into the ship, yet it bypassed both the Seat of Divine Foresight and The Shackling Prison...there is forethought here-- our enemy must have had the access to Luofu Intelligence for things to unfold this way..." Jing Yuan said, looking around the base of the Divination Commission.

This reminded him of a scene long in the past.

Of an arrogant man seeking to be paid favor by the man with the coldest stares and the most selfish and self-centered man, resulting the in the death of a beloved.

"It is evident now..." Jing Yuan sighed softly.

Shall events come to unfold the same as in the past, he wouldn't let the same outcome happen again. No. This time, he's an adult with power and experience.

He'd do anything to protect that soft smile on those smooth lips he watched to be still for centuries.

"The Stellaron Hunters..." Jing Yuan addressed, looking at a little solemn at the mention of the faction. "They aren't the ones behind the curtain. No, as soon as I set eyes on Blade, it was clear to me. But why is he here ?"

He knew the answer to that question. But that wasn't enough of a reason. Why did he bring Kafka ? Why this timing with the Stellaron burst ?

"And why did he draw the Astral Express ? That piece of the puzzle still eludes me."

The man thought long and hard about it, but he was still confused to specifically why the Astral Express had to be brought here onto the Xianzhou Luofu. Why not anywhere else ? Why during this timing ?

He couldn't answer that himself.

He sighed.

"Nevertheless, Lady Fu." The tall general said, looking at the smaller lady before him. "Your intel means the puzzle is more complete than it was before, haha."

"These Stellaron Hunters are a captivating group-- such lengths to get the Xianzhou and the Express on the same track. Who would've believed it ?"

Fu Xuan was getting a little pissed though, this wasn't anything related to the current status quo.

"General, we must retain all urgency ! The Ambrosial Arbor--" "It's the Stellaron." The General cut her off with a frown on his lips.

"No need to search high and low-- the traitors have planted it in the Ambrosial Arbor's delve, thereby causing the tree to grow once again. The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus couldn't hold off any longer." Jing Yuan said, unfolding his arms.

"Every crisis has a turning point." Fu Xuan said softly. "A problem is easier to resolve when you know where it lies."

Jing Yuan then smirked at her words, putting his hand on his hip as he knowingly raised his eyebrows at her. Fu Xuan didn't get it for a moment, but when she did, she frowned with a small pout on her lips.

"Am I coming up with the plan again...?" She sighed, looking up at him.

"Of course," Jing Yuan said without shame nor hesitation. "I'm sure you have a countermeasure at the ready, Master Diviner."

"From my perspective, convening the Cloud Knights is our immediate priority." Fu Xuan said after a while of thinking. "We must head into the roots of the Ambrosial Arbor, expel the Stellaron spirits, and prevent the Arbor's resurrection."

"I hope we need not ask the assistance of the Saltator Lunae...it would be...quite poor of us to make her use her powers after being in and out of consciousness repeatedly..." Fu Xuan said, looking down, deep in thought. "I propose that we request her help shall the need arises."

"Mhmm~" he hummed in satisfaction, nodding his head to the Master Diviner's thoughts towards resolving the matter. "As ever the Master Diviner's omniscia provides the fastest solution. However, sometimes speed is not everything."

"I have known the Stellaron's location for a while now, so why have I held back our forces ? Why did I let (Y/n) roam around even when I knew is her...unstable constitution ?" He asked, letting Fu Xuan think for a moment.

Fu Xuan thought for a moment, looking down before her eyes went back up to Jing Yuan.

"General..."

"You're a scoundrel."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, shaking his head softly. Those words...were somewhere distant in his past, in his memory, through years of living.

He looked at the board of Starchess before him, smiling smugly as he looked at his opponent who sat across him. She frowned, her eyebrow twitching in displeasure and irritation.

"Jing Yuan, you scoundrel." She said with contempt.

"Haha~ you cant say that, (Y/n). It is unbecoming of the benevolent and highly-respected Saltator Lunae~" He said with a smirk on his lips, chuckling with pride and slyness.

"And you cannot use such underhanded tactics in trying to fool me." Dan Jia said, hands on her hips as her beautiful hair swayed in the wind.

"Who said I was fooling you, dear friend ?" He asked, reaching out a hand to sweep back her soft and silky strands of hair behind ear.

"I was just...suggesting you a move and you fell right into my trap."

"You're just too kind for your own good, Dan Jia." He said, putting his chin in the palm of his hand, a light blush on his cheeks as he retracted his hand from her.

"You should be careful. People might take your kindness for granted, or even take advantage of your naivety."

Dan Jia pouted, crossing over her arms over her chest with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks for being called naive and gullible.

"It would surely eat you up one day. So be careful..."

And it really was the reason for her downfall, being betrayed by her family. Her lover and her brother.

#dragon's cradle #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x you #hsr blade x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr blade x you #blade x reader #blade x you

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hwaitham · 5 months

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𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝔀𝓸 ꒱ྀིა . ｡˓ ❤︎ ˖ ݁ blade ( yingxing ) x gn!reader. sfw. established relationship ﾉ suggestive ﾉ set during da high cloud quintet era ﾉ no prns for reader but dey r dressed in a dress n' mary janes ﾉ u're called bunny at some point hehe c: ﾉ repost frm old bloggie ! i just miss him tremendously ‎o(TヘTo)

you bring yingxing’s lunch to his smithy, precisely at noon when the mechanical birdie above the door chirps 12 times as you walk in. before you can enter his frame of view, a small smile already begins to quirk up on his lips.

(he's grown familiar with the clickity-clack of your mary janes and the spring of your step— he swears on his life that he'd be able to recognize you from the sound of your footsteps alone.)

“yingxing, i brought you lunch!” you greet him cheerfully and rub your nose against his in a bunny kiss, leaning over a bench decorated with multitudes of nuts and bolts and "little spinny wheels" and "puffy air blowers"— as you like to call the names of tools you're unfamiliar with.

(he’s thought time and time again about educating you on proper terminology but decides against it every time.

your silly whimsies are rather endearing.)

your lover melts at your affection, feeling the warmth of the sun through your thumb that sweeps over the smudge of charcoal on his chin, your lips that land on his brow, and then his nose, and under his eyes and over the apples of his cheeks and finally his own lips.

he smirks over your mouth— amused by your sweet desperation to feel more of him, the happy little noises that bubble in your throat, the way you paw at his chest.

so eager.

surely there must be a tail wagging somewhere behind your back.

"how am i expected to eat my lunch when it can't stop kissing me?" yingxing whispers lowly, voice lilted the same way it always does whenever he tries to pry you from the orchard and into his bed. "i'm hungry, dear."

and you taste so sweet, like strawberries and butterscotch and cream and everything precious in this world and, aeons, won't you allow him just one bite?

"naughty! not here—" your giggle breaks off into a squeal when he pinches your waist, and then into a dreamy sigh when he kisses your lips once more.

and your jaw. and over the muscle lining your neck. and inside the hollow of your clavicle.

you've allowed him three bites too many, because now you're putty in his hands. cookie dough for him to knead and shape and eat however he sees fit.

"at least... not now..."

"so, later, then?"

(he's as charming and boyish as he was when you first came to know him years ago. and perhaps just as shameless.)

"you're such a glutton," you tease, gently slapping away the wandering hands that slide up the skirt of your dress before they're given a chance to devour you whole. "look, lunch."

your fingers find his chin to avert his gaze from your face to the steel tiffin box and wicker basket full of tangerines that you've laid on his countertop— perfectly orange, peels unblemished, tiny dewdrops of cool water clinging to the surface.

“tangerines?”

they're his favourite.

“mhm!"

after you, of course.

"i picked them from the orchard this morning.” you take the basket in one hand and reach out for him with the other, palm facing the sky, hair flowing gently when you step closer to the daylight and into the wind-chime breeze flitting through the open window.

his hand finds a home in yours, then you smile— all teeth and scrunched-up eyes and it feels like he's seeing you smile for the first time all over again and he falls and falls and falls.

“won't you enjoy some with me, yingxing?"

and it's almost as if the daylight is shining just for your eternal honeymoon love when it kisses both your faces so tenderly— sitting with yingxing on the sill under the saturday sun, your legs slung over his thighs as he peels tangerines.

he feeds you the cleanest pieces, white fibre picked off and sticky on his hands because he knows you don't like how it tastes.

and he gets messy with the juice, lets it run down the strong vein that lines the back of his palm because he enjoys when you lick it all off, suck on his fingers and kiss their tips all the while looking up at him like you don't realize how you wring his heart and twist it into a ribbon.

(you call him a glutton but he reckons you are just as greedy with your love.)

and he splits the tangerines into single slices and feeds you the biggest ones because it's ridiculously cute how you like to stuff your cheeks with them, fitting as many as you can into your mouth.

"you look quite adorable when you're eating." yingxing's voice is silky, quiet, yet it catches you off guard when he leans into your side to softly pinch your full cheeks between two fingers, jaw falling slack and wide eyes unmoving while you gaze up at him curiously. "my little bunny."

"'myourbunny?" you laugh and question shyly, lashes fluttering as your eyes close and wrinkles crease at their corners, the tangerine slices filling your mouth threatening to pop past the seams. with your wobbly lips, you smile the best you can, wrap your sticky fingers around his wrist and lower his palm to cradle the side of your face.

when you nuzzle into his touch, yingxing sees the brightest star in his sky.

he feels the way your fingers slip between his own and he feels how perfectly they fit, and that feeling creeps along his neck, moves to the corners of his mouth to tug them up until his smile grows wider than your own.

there's a seed caught between his teeth that's now on display.

he could care less.

you two share touches with rind-covered fingertips, kisses with juice dripping from your chins. giggles and breaths and honeycomb words and a dozen tangerines.

yingxing wishes you had picked some more. and he thinks about how much he loves you.

and he wonders if you can tell.

🐾 special taggiez 4 bladie'z sweethearts @blushfwul @culturity :3

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #blade x reader #yingxing x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #huwwo i just think he is so lovely . . ‎(╥﹏╥)

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gojoidyll · 7 months

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Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 4 | my life

Warnings | death , gojo starts to get a bit delusional , yandere gojo , gojo being salty about y/n's new life , mentions of su!c!de by poison , murder , grammatical errors , etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

year 1120 AD

GOJO SHIRO, at the somewhat middle age of 30, couldn't believe his eyes. His six eyes, dulled a bit due to age, seemed to ignite with a sort of happiness as he looked down at a newborn that his dear daughter wanted him to meet. (As he got older, he was practically forced to marry someone from the clan elders despite him being the lord of the land and head of the clan now. He honestly didn't want to as he saw it as him betraying y/n, but alas, life must go on for the Gojo clan.)

"Her name is Y/n Gojo, isn't she cute?"

Life sure was cruel. Here he was still not dead from his second life and here y/n was already in her third, her second reincarnation. A sort of dark pit settled within him. A seed of pure rage entangled him and took root.

"She is cute," he muttered, but she wasn't supposed to start her second life without me. And she's a Gojo no less, so even if I reincarnated we wouldn't be able to be married together, we would be related to each other for God's sake!

He had to right the wrong.

So, he made a quick decision. A just decision.

"However, she's been cursed."

His daughter paled, "w- what?! Cursed?! But father-"

He held up his hand as y/n laid gently in his arms, "you know the rules as much as I do. That husband must of done something to you during childbirth, or when she was being conceived. You know better than anyone else that the Gojo clan has enemies lurking in the shadows."

"Minako would never hurt her! He loves our little girl!"

"And how can you be sure? You nor anyone else has the six eyes, you nor anyone else can see what I see, and this child is cursed. She'll bring the Gojo clan to ruin if she exists a second longer."

"But father-"

"Enough! If you do not have the will to end this cursed child's life, then I will take it upon myself."

"You can't father! You can't! There must be another way! We can save her!"

His daughter was in hysterics. All she wanted was for her father to finally meet her baby little girl. If she knew this was going to happen, then she would of run away with y/n and Minako in tow.

Urumei was summoned a moment later and had grabbed a tight hold of Gojo's daughter.

"Take her outside while I handle this."

"Of course, my lord."

His daughter could only kick and scream in Urumei's grip. Her wails being heard outside the door and down the hall as Gojo was left with y/n. His six eyes now focused onto the small baby in his arms.

"You're quite cruel for doing this to me, but don't worry y/n, my precious little y/n. I know you didn't have control over where you were born and who you were born too. But you must understand .. if I die and am reincarnated and you're not there, then how will I live? You're my world. And I'm your moon. You said so yourself. We made a deal. Its only fair that we be reincarnated at the same time so that we're together."

He activated hollow purple. And, for a moment, he was glad that she was still asleep. He doesn't think he would be able to go through with it if she were awake, and just as he was about to go through with it. She had opened her eyes. They were a brilliant, bright (color) and his breath faltered. Looking up at him, she smiled and giggled and held out her chubby, small hands up to him. Her fingers making grabbing motions.

He deactivated hollow purple and decided to just come up with the excuse to raise her himself and to "make sure she wasn't cursed anymore and didn't hurt anyone within the clan."

His daughter, when she was brought back in, could only weep and smile at the good news, grateful to her father for not killing her baby. Granted, since y/n was still "cursed" as she and everyone else within the clan were told to believe, then it meant she wouldn't be able to take care of her daughter and instead her father would look after her instead. But she was still happy nonetheless.

And that was how life went for the next fourteen years.

"Father, father, father!"

Now at the age of 44, Shiro could be found carrying y/n around on his back as she would point at the different food stalls, wanting to try all the different kinds of sweets they had.

Now, Shiro was, in fact, her grandfather of course, but he decided to blur the lines a bit on that since he was still young and because his daughter and her husband had passed away tragically in a cursed spirit attack when y/n was only two years old. Many found it odd how he didn't seem phased over their deaths but reckoned that he just needed to focus on caring for his newly made daughter instead.

And y/n simply didn't need to know. Besides, as he said, he was still relatively young so what was the harm in posing as her father figure instead? (Not to mention that he erased anything and everything related to his previous daughter and wife. Hell, he couldn't even remember their names!)

"You want to try that next?"

"Yes, please!"

Much to Shiro's delight, despite living under his doting care she still turned out the same as in her first two lives. Cute, shy, and super adorable. However, she was a bit chubby but that was only because he absolutely refused to see her in a sickly state as she was seen previously in her other lives. And it was nice seeing her so happy. He doesn't remember ever being so happy before with her first two families. Granted, in her second life her mother there was nice but y/n didn't have a father and her mother was always working. Not to mention those bullies were- he seethed a little, that's right. To y/n, this was the only life she lived, but to Gojo he was still in the life where those damn brats killed her.

He tried to clear his mind and focus on y/n instead.

The day went on and soon night fell which meant their usual routine. Y/n would wash up and immediately get dressed in her night clothes and come into his room. He would already be in bed and would pat the spot next to him as she would happily clamber in next to him.

But just before she would fall asleep, he would tap her on the nose.

"Forgetting something?"

She giggled a little as she turned towards him and lifted her head forward. Her lips gently pressing against his cheek as she gave him a tiny goodnight kiss.

"Goodnight, father! I love you!"

He kissed her forehead in return, and hugged her close, "goodnight my sweet angel."

And as she would fall into a deep sleep, he would find himself in discomfort. This was not the life he wanted with her. Not at all.

So he would find himself reaching into the cupboard next to his nightstand. His eyes glinting into the dark when he would find a dark vile. In it was a heavy poison. He knew what he had to do.

Uncorking the lid, he parted y/n's lips and let the liquid slip down her throat.

Now, this wasn't a rash decision, he's actually been thinking of this for quite some time. He couldn't wait any longer to die and to get reincarnated with y/n. He didn't want to be her father figure or even a father to her. He wanted to be her husband. But life was cruel.

It wasn't fair.

not fair

Thats what he always told himself, and he finally went through with it, and making sure that her heart stopped and she was truly dead. He, too, took a swig from the bottle and then promptly tossed the vile out the open window for someone to find while on patrol.

It wasn't fair. He deserved to have y/n as a wife, not a daughter, or as a granddaughter. It only made sense to finally start anew. Besides, she lived a decent life. A decent childhood. He could have killed her as a baby. Oh, he really could have. But he didn't. He let her live.

So, by doing that, he deserves to take that life away too and start again.

He knew they would be reincarnated together this time. Because they didn't end up together. This wasn't their happy ending.

Infinity taglist | @whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #female reader #gojo satoru #gojo #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #gojo x reader

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dark-chocolatt · 1 year

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𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 !

MODERN AU STEP BROTHER ZHONGLI X GN READER

tho, i write with a male reader in mind, i just make it gender neutral, THEY AREN'T A KID, THEY'RE A TEEN ISTG

genre: hurt/comfort

platonic to romantic relationship !

“𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞, 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

content warnings: incest, possessive behaviour, age gap, subjugation, yandere zhongli, conflicted feelings

your step-brother was way too charismatic, touchy, and so kind towards you. you didn't mean to develop feelings but eventually, you ended up wanting more than your current relationship with him.

at night, your thoughts would wander, how would it feel to cuddle with him? to kiss him? to feel his touch all over your sensitive body?— with each fantasy that came to mind, you could feel your body aching.

god, i just wanna be with him you groaned, dragging your hand down your face. it was almost laughable, how much you pined for him, sure, you weren't actually related but fuck, it felt wrong to think about him that way.

you had never felt so frustrated beforehand, unable to do anything about your longing for him. clutching a pillow in your arms — a couch pillow that reeked of his scent — you sighed, feeling the familiar hollow in your chest, still heavy and just as painful as it always was.

at first, it was just admiration, but as time passed, you realised that you had fallen for him. it had dawned on you, just how stupid were you to fall for him? you chuckled, feeling bad for yourself. why would he like you? he only treated you like a sibling, why would he even think of you that way?

a few tears slid down your cheeks, wetting the pillow you held to your chest. for a moment, you truly felt helpless, oh well, at least it'll stay a secret, he doesn't have to know after all you hummed, smiling bitterly.

slipping on your headphones, you decide to drown everything out with music — but instead, your thoughts fill up with even more fantasies, about marrying him and what he would be like as your lover; it filled you with a deep sense of poignance, knowing you could never be with him.

minutes felt like hours, and because you were too caught up in your head, you didn't realise that your brother had finally come home. “i'm home!” he hollered into the quiet home, a quizzical gaze landing on the scattered pair of sneakers beside the entrance. “my, i wonder who left their shoes here?” he chuckled fondly, placing them in the shoe closet along with his own.

stepping into the living room, gold eyes brightened at the sight of you. he stepped closer, furrowing his eyebrows when he realises that you're crying — dropping his briefcase on the carpet, he makes his way to you.

your eyes shoot open when zhongli's hand cups your cheek, glassy e/c ones meeting his worried gaze. “what's wrong? why are you crying?” he asks, dropping to his knees.

wiping away your tears, he caressed the back of your head, pulling you into his embrace. “whatever it is, your big brother will do his best to help alright? are you upset because you lost your nintendo switch? i can buy you a new one don't worry—” “i, it's not that” you whispered, cutting him off.

gently, you pushed him away, smiling at him. “it's not something you should worry about” you responded, looking away from him. his frown deepens, just what on earth happened to you to get you to act like this?

he envelopes one of your hands in both of his own, gazing down at them tenderly. his thumb traced reassuring circles into them, “please tell me, i just want to help you, you matter so much to me so i don't want you struggling with anything” he says, voice fading into a whisper.

minutes pass, and eventually, he takes a seat next to you on the couch, hugging you and rubbing your back. with a soft sigh, you stand up, only for one of your hands to be caught by one of his own. “you haven't told me yet” he persisted, eyes prying for an answer.

“you don't need to know” you snap, yanking your arm away. you rush to your bedroom, him chasing after you and just before you can shut the door, he pushes it open, pressing you against the wall.

his grip on your shoulders is weirdly possessive in a way, tight but not rough enough to leave a mark. “tell me, i'm your big brother, i can help you with anything, please don't shut me out” he pleads, fixated on your every move. your heart skips a beat in your chest when he does, you could practically feel his breath on your face.

your head is downcast, face getting hotter with each second that passed. it seems that he won't budge so you eventually decide to tell him about something else.

“it's just something with a classmate of mine—” “don't lie to me” he warns, eyes dark and piercing into you. a meek whimper slips past your lips, why did he sound mad? you wondered, feeling nervous. you gulp down the saliva building up in your throat, hoping he didn't hear you.

“i, i can't tell you” you replied, voice sounding a bit whiny. zhongli's eyes are half-lidded as he stares down at your small frame, eyebrow gently quirking up, “and why not?” he inquired.

just why was his cute little sibling being so awfully dodgy? did he do anything wrong?, you just had to tell him and he'd do anything to make it right.

“cuz, you'll hate me” you whimper, tears welling up in your pretty eyes. his eyes widen, “oh sweetie, i would never hate you” he cooed, bringing you into his arms. he pats you on the head, trying to soothe you.

“e, even if i love you? romantically?” you whisper, stunning the man. you felt the same? you loved him that way too? god, he could feel his joy bubbling within him. his lips slowly curved up into an uncontrollable smile. slowly, he lifted you into his arms, sitting on the bed with you in his lap. “oh darling, my sweet little darling, i will never hate you because,” he pauses, pulling you in for a gentle kiss that tinted those soft cheeks in a tinge of red he absolutely adored — he chuckled, “i love you like that as well~” he cooed, hands encircling your waist.

a soft and cute little smile graced your face, you were so glad your brother didn't hate you. you kissed him again, shying away with a soft giggle after. “aw don't be shy baby, you're mine now, and i'm yours right? would you like that honey?” he asked with a soft voice. you nodded eagerly, causing the smile on his face to widen.

his cute little sibling was now his darling, he didn't kill off your parents in that accident for nothing. as sickening as it was, he knew he had to have you.

he peppered kisses all over your face, ecstatic to finally have you as his own.

#darkchocolate!#hotcoco!~#zhongli x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin scenarios #genshin x male reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli #yandere genshin impact

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vagabond-umlaut · 10 months

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ramé 6.0

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|6/6| this isn't really a way. if you're at this step, just fuckin' stop and retreat. your crush won't ever notice you – you sad, pathetic loser.

[READ 1.0 HERE AND 2.0 HERE AND 3.0 HERE AND 4.0 HERE AND 5.0 HERE!]

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; the promised sunshine ending to this work's finally here!! ft. the classic angst-to-tooth-rotting-fluff trajectory, the best four friends one can ever get, and, the sweetest romance between 'toru and shortie becoming official freaking-finally! [THE CHAP TITLE'S MISLEADING. OF SORTS. :))]

▸ sorry but i had to squeeze in a scene of shoko and suguru being the best drinking buddies ever. AND AND AND- jjk season two, my beloved-beloathed...

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"is that what you really think?"

gojo wonders if a momentous occasion as the one now deserves one brawl thrown into it or not. it won't be anything much; just dumping a bowl of soup down suguru's shirt and/or landing a pretty solid kick to his stomach and/or-

"careful, senpai or you might've to go home, bloody and beaten," the most monotone voice ever possible crashes into his thoughts in the worst possible way. a snicker, far too familiar, joins in. "yeah, nanami's right. besides, we haven't even clicked a pic yet. you wouldn't want to wear a black eye in it, would you?"

clinking his glass with shoko's, the white-haired watches suguru gulp down a shot of tequila, then give a mighty firm shake of his head. "no, of-fucking-course not. today is our dearest kouhai's important day; i don't wanna get involved in any drama now; though..." trailing off, the black-haired boy shoots gojo an awfully obvious side-glance before a look shared with the others.

the boy lets his eyes wander away from them. an abominably sharp acrylic nail pokes him in the cheek. gojo exhales a sigh, so exhausted.

were it just a day, the boy's certain to the hell and back, that he would have whipped up a snarky insult to the stink-eye aimed his way. the boy would have slapped his drunk classmate's hand away, calling her sense of fashion the worst names possible.

gojo, however, decides to resort to neither today. he decides to settle for a sigh - the second in the last minute, longer and wearier than the one before - and rests his face into the hollow of his palms, screwing eyes shut.

an exasperated grumble - or two, maybe - permeates the air.

"gojo senpai," the words ring out in a tone far too soft and worried. he muses he doesn't need to look to see the sympathetic frown haibara must be wearing, nor the varying degrees of pity and concern etched into the others' features. a warm hand squeezes his shoulder slightly.

haibara continues, "geto senpai is not entirely wrong, y'know? yes, of course, implying you might kick up drama is sorta wrong, i admit so. but otherwise... you could've tried to, i don't know, somehow find out the reason behind her sudden distance from you?"

opening his eyes, gojo twists to face his kouhai, ready to interrupt him, but stops at the earnestness in his gaze. "turning into a recluse or moping around isn't gonna solve anything, senpai. it's been more than a month since then and from what little i've seen, i can say it's eating the both of you alive. you, way more than her. so, go, speak with her," he urges him with a smile, "the others are not very well at showing their emotions but trust me when i say, we all are worried for you both, senpai."

the white-haired boy drags his gaze away from the speaker. suguru gives him a smile, shoko pokes him in the cheek again, nanami offers a fleeting impression of something smiley before looking away with a grimace.

gojo's eyes flit back to the encouraging boy before.

"okay," the upperclassman relents with a sigh, which instantly grows into a frown the moment every piece clicks into place in his mind and the goggles-wearing boy swears his heart skips a beat, "but what did you say about seeing shortie and know-"

stopping in the middle of the question, the boy stiffens.

three glasses shatter on impact with the floor, freed from the waiter's grasp, soon followed by two maids screeching your name in the most terror-struck voice ever manageable. gojo's six eyes provide him with enough details as always; albeit it seems miles from enough now, the way it always is in your case, further deepening the sorcerer's need to physically see you once; to soak in the brilliance of your gaze and the sweetness of the curve of your lips once.

who knows if he'll ever see you again from as close as- okay, no, wait-

"did you just run all the way here-"

"i love you."

"-in your heels?"

everything falls silent the moment the last word leaves gojo's lips and a shuddered breath escapes him into the bittersweet fragrance of the citrus perfume he remembers you using. in a lilac dress with a messy hairstyle and diamond studs, the youngest and newest leader of your clan stands before him, cheeks stretched in a wide grin.

whirling his seat round completely, the boy gives you one long look, only to earn a hauntingly soft look in return.

you smile.

"i know you might see me as the most inconsistent, lying, crazy bitch at best or as the most opportunistic bitch ever, trying to seduce you, for lack of a better term, to satisfy her craving for power, at worst; but no matter how you see me, how others see me, how i see myself - i'm in love with you, that's one thing which won't change no matter what."

you pause.

and as he watches you catch your breath after that long as hell sentence para, the first realisation which crashes on gojo's otherwise numb brain is: you too haven't changed.

not. one. bit.

from the way you stick to your minimal makeup look; to the way you speak sans any break and curse yourself as you confess to something (you think you did) wrong; to the way your gaze remains fixed on him, acutely trained on even the mildest twitch of his facial muscles... one whole month has passed since that stormy evening yet you're still the same you.

a little sweet. a little sour. a whole lot perfect-

who loves him-

you. love. him. too.

for the first time in an apparent eternity, gojo feels his lips lift in a free smile. although the chuckle leaving him sounds laden with moisture and emotions.

"i'll die before calling you a seductress, shortie," the boy says, "you're way too dumb and naive for that." your eyes move to the girl drinking beside him for a second, before settling back on him, a light sheen in them. smile widening yet growing a tender quality, he goes on to say, "and i know you aren't a liar; but regarding the inconsistent claim... i think an explanation's long overdue, isn't it?"

you huff a mild chuckle. stuffing your hands into your dress pockets, your senpai watches you draw in a long breath before letting it out in a whoosh, a tiny smile nestling in the corner of your lips. you begin.

"you know, right, my eldest brother was the clan leader before me? y'know, after my father just decided, one fine day, he's growing old and so he wants to retire somewhere peaceful now, with my mom, leaving me in the care of takeshi nii-chan and his wife?"

four pairs of eyes switch to him in silent query. ignoring them, gojo nods. it isn't everyday you speak so openly of your family, especially this topic concerning them.

considering how painful and sore it is for you.

how big of an escapist your father is.

how big of an asshole your brother is.

how utterly difficult it is for you to navigate in this household daily.

your sigh interrupting his thoughts, he hears you continue, "well, all was going well until it was not; and i decided i'd already spent too much time being a spectator to my life and future keeping getting kicked around like a fucking soccer ball."

few gasps sound in the vicinity, undoubtedly at you cussing. nanami's smooth voice cuts in through their shocked surprise, and through the bubble, gojo was under the impression, he and you had slipped into.

judging from the tiny start you give, the white-haired boy surmises you too must have felt the same.

your classmate's solemn voice sounds in the hush, though traces of a hesitation can still be found in it when he asks, "they... didn't arrange a wedding for you in the month you were here... did they?"

"they did," you're quick to answer, voice growing a steely quality, "the higher-ups and my brother decided to get me engaged to-"

"to whom?"

gojo's lips quirk up at the way you roll your eyes at suguru's impatient question, then look at him, a tired smile creeping onto your features. but, hey! is that a tinge of shyness on your face that the boy can see?

you point your chin at him. "to 'toru, who else?"

the second (or maybe, the third) bout of silence would have followed this statement of yours too - if not for the cackling girl beside gojo. the latter makes no effort to conceal his irritation, shooting the most vicious glare ever; shoko simply raises her glass, as if in a toast, then tosses you a smirk.

"you love him, still you don't wanna get hitched with him? not very clever of you, yeah?"

"yeah," haibara chips in, albeit much less teasing and more a worried timbre than shoko, the shades-wearing boy deems. the other student continues, brows creasing together, "plus, i doubt gojo senpai saying no to the proposal. so, why didn't you go ahead with it?"

your head tilts to one side. your lips twitch in a knowing fashion.

"you just said the reasons yourself, yu-kun."

years later, if someone asks gojo when's the time he realised he's in love with you, too deep and too far gone to ever consider anyone but you by his side, as his other and undoubtedly better half, the sorcerer will grin the goofiest grin ever and sigh the dreamiest sigh ever, and say, "every day."

which is the truth, really-

yet, from those 'every day'-s, there exist few such days, whom the six-eyes user's brain subconsciously frames in a golden frame and places on a dust-free pedestal.

for instance, today.

a day your senpai dreaded to begin by leaving the comfort of his bed, knowing the person whose ascension to the metaphorical throne he has been invited to witness today, blood chilling and condensing into tears on his lashes as memories from long ago and not-so-long-ago hurtle into his brain.

only to morph, by evening, into the day the boy realises: love isn't just what made him switch his infinity off and pull you under him, a shield to protect you from the crumbling roof, forgetting everything except your safety and life; but love is also what made you push him and the emotions within yourself away.

forgetting everything - the boy knows from knowing you these many years - except your very evident aim of shielding him from the vicious schemes of those responsible for this damned jujutsu hierarchy.

no matter how easy and rewarding the other path would've been for you.

no matter how difficult and painful this current path must've been for you.

just 'cause you love him.

just 'cause you know, at the end of it all, he's going to be safe, away from the manipulating hands of the higher-ups - away from even the slimmest chance of experiencing a shred of the ordeals you suffered as a child, losing your free will and living as a mere puppet, subject to those old geezers' whims and fancies.

the two of you are not-too-near to the threshold of adulthood; still, through those unsure lenses of transition between immaturity and maturity, gojo feels sure this very moment that his eyes are viewing now - of watching his feelings being reciprocated not only in words (which, he knows, are true; your body language is as familiar to him as the back of his hand) but also in actions - so pure, so selfless, so utterly... loving-

the boy reckons his six eyes have never landed on a sight so ethereal and just so good, that it makes his heart want to burst right out of his chest.

drinking in the way you're regarding him, fingers fidgeting and teeth gnawing on your lower lip, gojo cracks a smile.

your restlessness abates a little.

"you became the clan leader just to make sure this story remains ours and only ours, didn't you?"

you take a moment before answering with a big nod.

"yeah," you say, "but that doesn't mean you need to be grateful to me or anything of the sort. you can give me any answer you want to give. you can also give me no answer, now or ever, if that's what you really want to do. just know that i love you, and that your answer can never really put a dent in it, no matter what it is."

"no matter what it is?" your senpai echoes your words back to you. a small nod is what you send in reply; yet it seems to be more than the quantity of oil required to set the cogs of gojo's brain whirring to life and mischief. eyes narrowing, he asks, "not even if my response is an 'i love you too, shortie', hm?"

the clock in the room ticks thrice.

two known voices mutter curses behind him.

five maids of yours scurry out the door, whispering excitedly.

you narrow your eyes back at him.

"i asked you to not feel pressured, didn't i? tell me what you want to say, 'toru," you say; his name in your mouth sounds sweeter than the sweetest mochi the boy's ever tasted, "and not those stuff you think i want to hear you say."

your statement draws an amused chortle from gojo. "did you really forget what i told you last that day, shortie? or did you not again not understand what i was telling you then?"

"what's there to not understand in that!?" your indignant reply arrives without missing a beat, "you said you've always seen me as way more than a childhood friend: true 'cause we're best friends. then- oh yeah," with a click of your fingers, you add, face steeped in contemplation, "you also said- oh."

"yep, oh," gojo nods his head in an exaggerated fashion, revelling in the way you're looking at him right now, eyes round as saucers and cheeks ruddy as the expensive wine being served now.

you still seem so beautiful to him.

it takes a pinch more than a while before you breathe out a breathless giggle. straightening in his seat, gojo feels his cheeks hurt a bit from the wide smile digging indents into them.

"you really lo-"

"ma'am, the guests for the evening party will be here very soon. you should get ready now," one of your maids interrupts you. the sorcerer feels his smile shrivel a little. you're barely back with him; yet you'll be stolen away from him-

"aw, is it so?" your entertained query cuts in through his thoughts. the boy looks up from his shoes his gaze had moved to before, to you, an awfully fake apologetic smile lighting up your face.

gods, why do you look so fucking kissable when you're like this?

"you know what, the people invited aren't really the kind i want to talk to and ruin my mood. besides, i've already met 'my' guests, so..." the boy watches you inch closer to him slowly as you trail off; your maid's eyes narrow before widening. you grin. "toodles, mrs. matsui!"

that and the salute you throw at everyone in the room are the last two memories clear in gojo's mind, before everything turns into a mush of everything yet nothing in the end.

well, barring a few exceptions, of course.

your contagious chortles, for instance, while you both dash down the hallways of your mansion; or your delighted gasp when he wraps his arms round you and warps to that patisserie in nikko; or your million-watt-bright beam to him, as you slap the latter's sneaky hands away from stealing a bite from your plate, whilst the latter declares this to be where you two will celebrate the future milestones; or the-

"ieiri senpai was right, y'know?" your tired voice cuts in through your senpai's rather-muddled recollections. the latter tears his gaze away from the inky-black night sky dotted by the twinkling lights of tokyo, to your drowsy form resting her head on his chest, his one arm tight around your shoulders, while the other rests behind his head on the cold hood of the car.

moving to brush the strands of hair away from your forehead, the boy presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, earning a sweet kiss to his chin in return, and hums, "not really the person i wanna chat about right now with my girlfriend..." you suddenly twist your body towards him, throwing an arm over his stomach and nuzzling into his neck; making a mental note to address you as that more often, he sighs. "but carry on, i guess. you won't be you if you can't gush about that damn shoko every third sentence or something."

planting your lips to his jaw for a mere second, gojo watches you pull away an inch from him, grinning. "senpai said you'll be the first one to confess but i'll be the one who makes things official and public and all that shit," you explain, then gasp, grin turning wider.

"oh my god," you mutter, "geto senpai and iori senpai are gonna lose so much money to her. them two never thought you could ever say 'i love you' to me, did you know that? oh my god... i kind of feel bad for those two."

the gleeful expression you're wearing tells your boyfriend otherwise - choosing to ignore it, he throws you a smirk. "well, i don't. those two people shouldn't have doubted me. i'm the one and only gojo satoru," he proclaims, puffing his chest out a bit, "of course, I'll be successful in my mission of getting you to notice my love for you."

"nah, i don't think so," you shake your head the very next instant. lips into the most adoring curve he's ever seen on you - something which steals his retort away from him and makes him want to pinch his arm hard, to see if he's dreaming or not - you hum.

"you could confess your love to me, not 'cause you're gojo satoru. but because you're my 'toru and i'm your shortie... isn't it so?"

gojo thinks back to the time utilised in carefully drafting and finalizing the steps via which he can catch your eye, only to watch them not go the way planned.

gojo looks back to you, only to find your eyes trained on him, glitters of love in them unbelievably similar to those loud crackers bursting in his chest right now.

the young sorcerer runs a reverent finger down the side of your face.

"yeah, it is because you're my shortie and i'm your 'toru, sweetness," he whispers, "and we'll always stay this way, yeah?"

you reply by engraving the shape of your smile into his.

▸ AND MY MAGNUM OPUS IS OVER! 🥳🥳

▸ I GENUINELY HAVE NO IDEA ON WHAT I SHOULD SAY RN BUT I THINK I WANNA SAY ONE HELL OF A BIG THANK YOU TO EACH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS BEEN WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY SO FAR. 'TORU AND SHORTIE'S STORIES ARE LIKE, WAY FAR FROM BEING OVER, IG. BUT YEAH, THANK YOU SO SO SOO MUCH, PPL. I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH! 🥰🥰🥰

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #kit posts 📝

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cakexblankett · 12 days

Text

Into me you see

Character

Lady Jessica

Rating

Green

Words

1.586

~•~

"Here are the candidates, Lady Jessica."

"Hm you can leave now."

Lady Jessica took a guick glance at all the seven girls aligned in front of her. Her eyes stopped on you. You didn't dare look in her direction, your face cold and unexpressive. She came closer to you, looking up and down at your form. She gestured for the others to leave, and they immediately took off. You remained alone with her, your muscles tensed.

"Look at me."

You did as you were told, your E/C eyes looking directly at hers. She was beautiful, her jawline was defined and her cheeks almost hollow but that didn't take away her feminity.

"Tell me your name."

"Y/N."

She hummed, and with her hand put a stranded hair in its place. Her touch was gentle and her palm slightly touched your face, which almost made you jump. You weren't used to these small gestures of affection.

"I know you carry a knife."

Your eyes widened. How could she tell? She smiled, and her hand moved slowly down your body. You were prepared to attack at any moment, but something told you not to. Her hand trailed down your torso, until she found the knife and threw it away from the two of you.

"Now we're both unarmed."

Your jaw tensed, and you faked a smile. You didn't want to be there, but that woman made you curious somehow, so you tried refraining your violent impulses.

"You're a Fremen."

"And very proud to be one."

Your chest puffed, and you looked down at her. She just smiled at you, and you began being irritated by her kindness and gentleness. You knew it was a façade; as soon as you would have trusted her she would have stabbed you in the back.

"I want to entrust my life to you."

You rolled your eyes, and chuckled. She was so naïve, thinking that a Fremen girl like you would help a woman like her, the concubine of the Duke that would certainly ruin your land.

Lady Jessica's smile never left her pale face. You gazed at her curiously.

"You may not know it now, but we are a part of a bigger plan."

You raised one of your brows, inquiringly. Could she be talking about...?

"Lisan Al-Gaib..."

You whispered. She nodded, her smile fading. You gulped; she could be lying, but something told you she wasn't. The prophecy was finally becoming reality, and you were going to be a part of it.

You kneeled, and bowed your head.

"I will protect you with my life."

Her hand came to touch your veil, and hummed. You looked up and saw the face of a true Bene Gesserit, the bearer of the Lisan Al-Gaib.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Weeks have passed since you became Lady Jessica's bodyguard. You followed her around the house, helped her with easy and hard tasks. You never left her side, you even slept in her room. You wondered why she didn't sleep with the Duke, but didn't dare ask, it wasn't your place to know these things.

"Y/N."

You bowed your head, her tone was different this time. You could tell from the slight shaking of her voice, and how she tortured her hands.

"Yes, Lady Jessica?"

She began pacing around the room, eyes closed, breath laboured. You simply looked at her, motionless. You started getting attached to her, your little and scarred heart began to feel again. You remained wary, but you knew it was a matter of time before all your walls would crumble.

You had a troubled past, your childhood passed under the tyranny of the Harkonnens. Your mother was killed when you were only four, and your dad disappeared not long after. People abused you, people walked away and never came back. Your people, the Fremen, tried her best to take care of you but the loss of your parents made you cold and distant and, above all, a warrior.

But all that seemed like a distant nightmare when you were with Lady Jessica. You didn't know what it meant to love someone but maybe she could show you, you wanted her to. You wanted her to take your heart and keep it in hers, away from all the hurt and pain.

She stopped in front of you and her hand cupped your cheek.

"I fear the time has come."

You furrowed your brows, not understanding. She smiled, and you gazed at her in adoration. Her smile was warm and beautiful, it almost made you smile in return. But you hadn't smiled in so long you feared you would look ridiculous.

"Time for what, my lady?"

A tear rolled down her cheek and you instinctively raised a hand and wiped it away with your thumb. Then, you put your thumb in your mouth. She watched you suck your thumb, your lips around it. She licked her lips, then closed her eyes.

"We don't waste water here."

She nodded, retreating her hand from your face. The loss of her warm touch made you whine.

"Prepare yourself to fight."

"My lady, I fear I don't understand-"

She raised a hand and you took the hint and stayed silent. At the end of it all, you were there to fight, it was your mission. To save Lady Jessica's life, even if it meant losing yours. You didn't mind, you would have walked through fire if it meant she would be safe from it. You weren't there to understand, you were there to follow orders, without questioning them.

"I regret choosing you."

There it was. You knew it, but you hoped those words would never come out of her mouth. Everybody had always regreted it, you were never the first option. It was strange she chose you in the first place, but she did, and you wondered why. But that didn't matter now, because she regreted it. What did you do to make her say that? You always tried your best to follow her orders, you thought it was going farely well.

You would have cried, you really would have. You felt so heartbroken, almost like you would explode at any moment, but your face remained the same, and your hands didn't shake, although you felt cold. A voice inside of you kept telling you that it was only natural she felt that way.

You remained silent, watching her as she paced around the room again.

"I shouldn't have chose you..."

You gulped, hands coming into a fist at your sides. You tried your best to remain calm, closing your eyes.

"If I didn't... you would have been safe."

You opened your eyes and gazed at her moving figure.

"I'm sorry?"

She stopped, her back facing you. You couldn't see the tears rolling down her cheeks but you could see her tremble. You didn't know if it was ok for you to come closer, so you didn't.

"You shouldn't be here, it's not safe. I'm sorry, I've been selfish, you should be with your people, away from this house. Now you might die, all because I..."

She sobbed, her voice cracking. Fuck it, you took three long steps and put your hand on her shoulder. She put hers on top of it and squeezed yours gently. You were a bit embarrased, you didn't know what to do or what to say.

"I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

You looked all around you, you couldn't bare see her in such a state.

"I... I'm glad you chose me."

You blushed, biting your tongue. She looked up at you, her eyes red and her cheeks wet.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here."

She smiled, that smile that made you melt. She took your hand and kissed it gently. Her lips on your skin made you feel on fire, you almost couldn't take it, the way she made you feel was ethereal.

"I knew I made the right choice."

You smiled, a shy and clumsy smile, but it was sincere. It was your first, true smile in what felt a decade.

"If something is really going to happen tonight..."

She looked right at you, her blue eyes locked in yours. The eyes are the window of the soul, hers was strong willed but uncertain.

"I just want you to know..."

You took a big breath in, averting your eyes from her. Her hand was still holding yours, and her touch made you feel so many things, things you never felt before. You felt like you were going mad.

"I... will protect you, even if it means I will die in the process."

"I know."

You nodded, and retreated you hand from hers. She let go of your hand, and turned away from you. You suddenly felt cold, and you shivered for a second. You could never ask her to love you, you knew her heart was in the Duke's hands. Will anyone ever love you? Nobody ever did, nobody ever will.

But she loved you, not in the way you did, but she cared for you, and that was enough. She saw your potential, she chose you to protect her, and you would do anything to make her proud of you. So if that night you would have lost your life, so be it.

Into me you see

You've got me wide open

Open sesame

Into me you see

You've got me wide open

Now I'm ready

Is this intimacy?

@marvelwomenrule

#fanfiction #ff #lesbian #actress #gay #gxg #rebecca ferguson #rebecca ferguson x reader #x reader #dune part two #dune part one #dune part 1 #dune part 2 #dune #dune movie #lady jessica x reader #lady jessica

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staggeringsmite · 2 years

Text

dm’s love to make kongs full of all kinds of lore to throw into their players’ enclosures

#c: the hollow lands #things that are real and true

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sugurusslvt · 5 months

Text

Pleasure, Pain

Pt 2. of Paradise, Warzone

So dirty and raw.

s : you finally have him back, just before he's abruptly ripped from your arms once again.

cw : 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, strong language, mean geto :c, pet names (angel, baby, slut, whore, etc.) , degradation, unprotected relations, creampie , afab reader and terms, sad at the end, straight porn some plot

wc : 1.2k

A/N : mean suguru will be the death of me. i'm also in my feels.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“There’s not a part of me that despises you.”

He smiled against your lips before pulling back and looking at you in your eyes, watching how the stars reflected in them.

“My girl.”

Fucking liar.

“God, nine years and you still suck me in like a fucking slut.” Suguru groaned as the tip of his cock slipped past your folds and into your tight warm cunt. You threw your head back, head spinning as he practically fucking ravaged your body, nipping and biting at the hollow of your throat. He wasn’t as gentle as you remembered, fucking you like he hated you and as if it was his last day on earth. You subconsciously tightened around him, the sloppy sounds of your cunt and the sound of his balls slapping against you mixing filthily in the air. He laughed as you began crying, the immense pleasure and pain filling your body as he pistoned his hips into you.

“Tell me, were you a whore when I left you? Did you fuck Satoru? I always saw the way he looked at you when you laughed. Like he wanted this cunt to himself.” Suguru’s harsh words and actions made your cunt flutter around him, making him laugh and growl in your ear. You moaned loud and mindlessly, shaking your head as drool dripped from the side of your mouth as if you were fucked dumb. “Never him, only you. Always you.”

Suguru harshly gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him in the mirror. “Watch yourself as I fuck your-Fuck- fucking tight cunt, baby.” Your eyes landed on your own, watching as they struggled to stay open. “S-so mean, Sug-Ah..” He gripped your hips harshly, one hand drifting up and around your chest, gripping roughly onto your tits.

“You like it when I’m mean. Don’t you, angel?” He smirked as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “You always touched yourself to me, hmm? Thought about me like a dirty bitch all those years, didn’t you, princess?” His hand wrapped around you, rubbing your poor sensitive clit in tight circles, your stomach tightening. You breathlessly moaned, feeling the warmth of your incoming release flood your core. “'M so close, Suguru.. So close!” You squealed, praying that he’d finally let you cum on him after what felt like hours of him edging you.

He smirked at you, looking at you in the mirror as he kissed- no, licked- the tears from your face. “What’s that baby? You wanna cum like a slut on my cock, hm?” He wrapped his hand in your hair, using it as leverage to thrust deeper into you, brushing the head of his cock against your cervix. You cried out, the sound of his name leaving your lips like a desperate plea. “Please, Sug. Please let me cum, need it so bad!”

Almost as if your cries reached deaf ears, he stopped before pulling out of you and laying on the bed. “You want it? Fucking ride my dick and earn it like the slut you are.” You whimpered as you shakily straddled him, struggling to guide his tip into you. Once you finally slipped the tip through the tight ring of your cunt, you tearfully sank down onto him, his pleased sigh urging you to rock your hips. You moaned shakily, your body vibrating as you struggled to keep pace. He smiled up at you, that gentle smile he would always give you when you’d laugh at his jokes in the past.

You bit your lip, the sudden feeling of nostalgia hitting you hard and leaving tears in your eyes before he gripped onto your hips and thrust into you. You bounced up and down on his lap, both of you moaning and groaning as sex filled the room. “Atta girl, look at you. Bouncing like a fucking whore on my cock. What? You like that baby? You like knowing that you’re a slut for me?” You nodded your head, agreeing to whatever filthy words he spoke as he smirked at you.

Your release crept up onto you, your cunt fluttering and tightening around him again. You moaned as he leaned up, wrapping you in a tight bear hug as he pulverized your insides. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Squeeze me like you want my cum.” He smiled before biting down on your collarbone harshly, licking the mark he left sweetly. “Make me cum, baby. Come on, sweet girl.”

You mewled, matching his pace as your core tightened once again. “Please Suguru-Fuuuuck- please let me cum!” he nodded and brushed the hair out of your face, locking eyes with you as he breathed shakily. “Cum with me baby, want you to squeeze out everything I have for you.” You squeezed your eyes shut as your breathing quickened, your cunt tightening around him. He let out a low groan, jaw slacking as he pulled your hips down into his leaving tiny fingerprint bruises. “Fuck! Shit baby!” Suguru whimpered as he finished inside you, his cum flooding you with warmth as it mixed with your own and dripped down your thighs.

You let out a whine, your head dropping onto his shoulder as he thrust whatever he had left into you. Suguru pulled your head back before smiling down at you, a light giggle leaving his lips before he pressed them into yours. A tear rolled down your cheek, the pure feeling of being happy that he was finally in your arms again. He leaned back and gently wiped the tears from your eyes, pressing light kisses on your cheeks.

“My girl.”

2017

It had been weeks since he last messaged you, the pure panic now setting in. Has he finally had enough of you? Was the last I love you he sent a lie? You bit your nails out of nerves, the stress rising as you paced your room in your apartment.

Just when you were about to dial his number again, a knock shook you out of your thoughts. You smiled widely, thinking that Suguru finally had enough of ignoring you. You happily opened the door, only to find Satoru standing there, looking solemn and stoic. You felt a cold feeling of horror wash over you, knowing that there were only two reasons why he could be standing there at your door. Please god no.

“Can I come in?” Satoru peers down at you through his bandaged eyes, you can tell he's been shedding tears because of the rosy tint on his nose. You hesitantly stepped back, allowing him to walk in and sit on your couch, leaning over and holding his head in his hands. You sat across from him, your heart pounding in your ears. “He’s dead, (Y/N).”

You sat there silently, ears ringing and praying that it wasn’t true. Your heart pounded against your chest, your breaths slow and shaky. “How long?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as a tear slowly trickled down the side of your face.

Satoru looked up at you, his own tears staining the bandages he wore across his face. “A month.” You sighed shakily, a weak whine leaving your lips. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold yourself together.

You really left me to pick up the pieces again, Suguru.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I am so sorry.

#jjk geto #jjk smut #geto smut #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru #suguru x reader smut

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ctitan98official · 2 months

Text

Alcina’s long lost child AU: Y/N is an emotionless soldier for B.S.A.A. part 2

Sorry this one took me so long to get out! I was having trouble deciding where I wanted to go with the story, but here’s what I got lol. Read the last part here! Let’s get into it!

You and Chris make your way up the mountain in relative silence, however, he can see that you’re clenching your jaw and repeatedly balling up your fists. You look incredibly tense.

“You okay, kid?” He asks.

You grit your teeth. Shit. Chris can tell you’re stressed. You don’t want him worrying about you, he’s got enough on his mind. “Fine,” You bite out, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

Chris is skeptical, but decides not to press you. He truly thinks of you as his own child and it hurts that he doesn’t know what to say to make things better. “Alright. Let me know if you need to talk, yeah?” He asks.

You nod stiffly at him, not wanting to speak anymore. You just want to finish this mission and get the fuck out of this place.

You two finally make it to the castle’s grand doors and Chris knocks, hoping someone in this enormous building will be able to hear him.

Just when he is about to knock again, the doors creak open and a small women in an old-fashioned maid’s uniform greets you… Before gasping and shrinking back when she sees you and Chris.

It’s an intimidating sight, to be sure. Chris’s imposing stature combined with your intense, but hollow, stare… Not to mention the heavy weaponry your both carry. The little maid gulps nervously at both of your appearances. “C-can I help you?” She asks timidly.

Chris answers calmly, trying to put the young woman at ease. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. We just… Need to talk to whoever is in charge here,” He tries to explain.

The maid perks up at this. “Oh… Then you must be looking for Lady Dimitrescu,” She tells him.

You and Chris look at each other in confusion.

“The report we got never mentioned anyone named Lady Dimitrescu,” You say.

The maid inwardly shivers at your cold voice. She finds you much scarier than Chris.

Chris sighs and shrugs at you before turning to the maid. “I… Guess so?” He says, rather unsure of what the hell is going on in this village. Apparently, his intel isn’t very good. You two are pretty much on your own, it seems.

“Will you wait for me in the foyer while I inform her that you’re here?” She asks, gesturing to some plush seats just inside the doorway.

“Of course,” Chris says.

The maid nods gratefully at him before excusing herself.

You and Chris sit down.

You try to relax, but that warm thrumming feeling is now stronger than ever. There’s something about this castle that makes you… Want to stay.

Wait.

No! No, you don’t want to stay! You just made up your mind about it outside. You’re so frustrated. Your head is all fucked up and has been ever since you and Chris landed. You seriously think you might be about to lose your shit for the first time ever… Thankfully, though, the maid returns and asks you both to follow her. Alright. A distraction is just what you needed. You take a deep breath and trail closely behind Chris as the maid leads the way, staying vigilant for any signs of trouble. You haven’t forgotten your orders. This could all be an elaborate trap.

Finally, the maid brings you to an ornate room trimmed in gold. She shakily curtsies before leaving.

As you scan the room, you see the biggest chair you’ve ever laid your eyes on… And in it? The biggest woman you’ve ever seen too.

“Well, well… It seems outsiders have invaded my castle,” She says in a smooth and velvety voice. She stands and smirks, somewhat amused, at the unusual duo standing before her. A stupid manthing and his, admittedly adorable, lackey.

Suddenly, you feel a profound rush of heat engulfing your body, almost as if you have a fever. You also feel that now constant thrumming transforming into a peculiar tugging in your chest. Your heart stutters a few beats, making you feel dizzy for a second. You stumble a bit and Chris places a steadying hand on your shoulder.

He doesn’t want to say anything in the presence of this stranger, but you can see the worry in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and nod at him, silently telling him you’re okay. You realize that what’s making you want to stay in this damn village… Is this woman.

You’ve never met her before and yet… She’s all you can think about at the moment. The tugging in your chest… It’s trying to lead you to her. But, you stubbornly refuse. You’ve never needed anyone before and you don’t now either.

Chris clears his throat before answering the tall woman. “Um… Apologies for intruding, er, Lady Dimitrescu, was it?”

Alcina turns to him with a surprised look on her face. “A manthing with some actual manners? Will wonders ever cease,” She quips.

You and Chris share a puzzled look at her reaction before he responds. “Well… Actually, my lady, we’re here on behalf of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance. B.S.A.A. for short,” He explains.

Alcina’s eyebrows furrow at this. “And why, pray tell, is that any of my concern? Why are you pestering me?” She asks, patience wearing thin. She hates to be bothered for stupid reasons.

“We’re here to see if you’ll become a problem for us in the future,” You say in your usual monotone, your face stoney as ever.

Chris’s head immediately snaps to you. “C'mon, Y/N! Seriously?” He gripes, placing his hand over his face in disbelief. So much for being subtle. “I’m sorry, my lady. What Y/N means to say is-” Chris rambles on about ‘Strategic relationships’ and 'Alliances’ for a bit, however, Alcina’s ears perk up at what Chris called you.

Y/N…

She hasn’t heard that name since… She picked it out for her and Miranda’s baby shortly after they were conceived. Her heart hurts as she thinks about how she had to give them up. She just… Didn’t trust Miranda not to hurt them. She couldn’t take the risk. Her eyes flick over to you, studying you intently. You… Seem to be about the same age her child would be now.

Actually… Now that she’s taking a closer look at your appearance, she sees features of your face that are quite similar to hers and… Miranda’s too, if she’s being honest.

Meanwhile, Chris is still somehow droning on and on. It’s starting to get on Alcina’s nerves. “Would you shut your mouth for two seconds, you steroid-addled fool?” She growls and rolls her eyes.

Chris quickly freezes and shuts the hell up at Alcina’s admonishment. You swear his cheeks are red from embarrassment. “Sorry…” He murmurs.

Alcina looks back at you. “Now, what about you, little one? I want to hear what you have to say,” She prompts in a much gentler tone. It’s probably just wishful thinking, but… What if… You really are her child? The possibility exists… And she just wants to hold onto hope for a little while.

You’re silent for a moment, unsure of what she’s asking for. “What do you want me to say?” You ask.

“Well… Tell me anything you’d like to,” She says with a small smile… And then glares at Chris. “Why don’t you go ask my maids to make you something to eat, manthing? Leave the two of us alone to chat,” She dismisses and waves her hand at him.

Chris blanches. “I- But! I’m not leaving Y/N. We’re here on a mission-”

“I’ve got this, Redfield,” You say, now wanting to take the opportunity to learn more about this woman. You’ve become so curious about her…

Chris’s mouth hangs open. “A-are you sure, Y/N? I can stay if you want me to.”

“I’m good,” You reiterate.

Chris sighs. He can see you’re telling the truth. “Alright,” He agrees. “Just keep your radio on, okay?” He tells you.

You nod at Chris and watch him reluctantly leave.

Alcina goes over to close the door behind him and leads you to sit with her by the fire.

You cautiously sit down and watch her closely.

“Now… Tell me about yourself, little one,” She says.

Note: Talk about a cliffhanger! A very interesting conversation will happen in the next part… Hope you liked it!

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil imagines #mother miranda #chris redfield

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lis-likes-fics · 2 years

Text

Bound in Dream

Pairings: Morpheus/Dream x Reader W/C: 7.7k words Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of death, mentions of sickness, sad storytelling, that’s really it. It’s a fluff-angst mix... A/N: This took longer to finish than I thought it would, but I’d blame work for that so... Here it is, enjoy!

The darkness of the night was quiet inside your home. Candlelight was the only thing illuminating the room as you gathered your herbs and set them out. They were familiar herbs, ones you grabbed once a week as a ritual, a routine, a necessity. You ground each herb together with your pestle, watching each little leaf or seed be crushed under its stone.

As if on cue, the whistling of the kettle pot heating over the stove signaled its readiness. Your thin nightgown flowed behind you as you shifted the pot and grabbed your mortar. Setting it down, you transferred it to your tea cup. You closed your eyes, your hands hovered over the cup as your finger swirled around the rim slowly, gently, a feather light touch as your magic seeped into the cup. You muttered the ancient words of your spell, whispering them into the air as you allowed your enchantment to settle.

When you opened your eyes again, the mixture of leaves and seeds was a powder. You picked up the kettle and poured the boiling water into your cup with a sigh. After a short, careless blow, you sipped at your tea and ignored the harsh burn to your tongue.

You held the cup between both your hands and blew out a breath. "Perhaps I'll sleep tonight," you whispered.

Then a strange feeling came over you. Your head began to spin and your body swayed horribly with the dizziness of whatever was suddenly taking over you. You grabbed the edge of the counter. The cup slipped through your and shattered against the tile of the floors with a harsh burn and slight stings against your bare feet.

"Here in the darkness…"

The words were a whisper in the back of your mind, a little echo of chanting. A dark feeling settled over you, hollowing your soul.

"Here in the darkness."

"What's happening?" you asked yourself, struggling to stay upright.

"Here in the darkness!"

The ground slipped from under you, and you were suddenly falling. The dark magic gripped you as you tried to grip onto whatever part of your reality that you could. You could grasp at nothing, take hold of nothing, there was nothing. You were like a bird trapped in a cage.

Your body met the floor with a harsh thud. The pain surged for only a moment before vanishing, paling in comparison to the horrors you have already endured. You could not move, numb to the feeling of your body, other than the bite of the cold floor underneath your skin. You were rendered paralyzed at the grip of dark sorcery, hazy-minded and heavy-bodied.

You could faintly hear the muttering and echoes of voices, shocked and excited. You could feel as one in particular, one that sounds like he's speaking through a filter as his muffled words command his people to move. You felt a set of hands remove your robe and leave you in your nightgown, but that was the most you could comprehend.

You were struggling to hold onto reality, too far gone from your potion and the darkness of the spell that gripped you. You slipped out of your consciousness, falling into a void of sleep that you wished never to return to.

You felt your toes first, wiggling unwillingly as you slowly came back to wakefulness. The tips of your fingers were next, flexing slightly as you tried to will yourself to open your eyes—but they were so heavy. You had no real desire to allow them to open again. You took in a slow, deep breath, filling your tight lungs like a balloon that wished not to inflate. You were able to clench your fist after a moment—tight, loose, then tight again as you allowed yourself to wake up.

You opened your eyes, unmoving as they darted around the room, through a barrier of glass. It took too long for you to realize you weren't alone. You turned your gaze without moving your head, and your eyes landed on a pale-skinned man across from you, bare and limp and beautiful as his face buried in the crook of his arm. He emanated a power you had never felt before, a power that reached inside of you and demanded submission. He was strong and compelling.

But just as vulnerable as you.

It's then you realized your own body, not as bare as him, but nowhere near decency. You ignored it, it was not of importance at that moment.

You were both trapped, imprisoned in this sphere, in this dome of glass as you lay unwilling to move.

A moment of silence and paralysis passed before you heard the squeak of a door. Your eyes looked but you did not move. A muffled command became a clear voice as a man approached the glass. He was mature, tall and blond and as greedy as the men you've met before. Next to him was a little boy, young and scared and almost…unwilling, you thought.

He saw you first, eyes open and watching. "Ah," he muttered, "You're awake."

You didn't respond. He watched the both of you for another moment before he finally spoke again, this time to the mysterious being next to you. "Are you awake? Are you listening?"

There was a long pause of silence. The being did not stir. The man sighed and circled the dome to take the both of you in, stopping at the other side to see you more clearly.

"I know who you are…" a beat, "Dream of the Endless."

You breath silently caught in your throat at the name. The being beside you, a man you had begun to question the presence of after so long without the proof that you had hoped you would be above the necessity of.

The being, Dream of the Endless, opened his eyes. You both remained still.

The man spoke again. He sounded so pleased with himself as he did so, "I captured you according to the laws of magic…but it wasn't you I wanted."

You wanted to scoff, to challenge his knowledge on magic when you had spent the last nine centuries knowing the true meaning of sorcery. But you did not. You would not give him the satisfaction.

"I wanted Death to return my son Randall, who died in the Gallipoli Campaign." There was a long pause, a grief in his soul that writhed for a moment before he shoved it to the side and returned to business. "If you give him back to me, alive and well, I'll release you. Is that in your power, Lord of Dreams?"

There was no response from him. The man clenched his jaw once and turned to you. "And what about you, Ms…?"

You gave no response. You just stared, silent and still and entirely unwilling.

"No," he sighed. "I suppose not." Another long pause. "So, then…what can you give me? If I let you go, if I promise to give you back your things."

No answer.

"What, power? Wealth? Immortality, hm?"

Not even a glance.

"Is there nothing you can offer me?"

Nothing.

"Well, have it your way then," he said. "And until you're ready to speak, I'll enjoy the gifts you've already given me."

He revealed a necklace, a ruby that glinted with an intimidating power. Then he left, he left the both of you alone with the boy who strayed next to the glass.

Dream finally moved, his body was slow, lethargic as he looked at the boy. You still didn't move, not yet finding the strength or will as you lay there. The boy stared, fear and panic slipping into him as Dream's eyes watched.

The boy ran, and you were left alone with two guards and the Endless you never thought you would meet.

After a moment, you breathed in and sat up. You pulled your knees to your chest and laid against the side of the glass. Your eyes finally met, and he stared once more.

His gaze left you breathless.

It glinted with the light of a thousand galaxies, starry and ancient and filled with a hidden rage that burned for the man who had captured you.

But for you, all you found was curiosity and sorrow for your shared fates.

In a whispered voice, one still heavy with sleep and weak with your drainage of power, you muttered almost too quietly. "Silentium…"

Dream's eyes looked up as he felt a warm blanket of magic settle in your cage. Then they found you once more, and he tilted his head. But he does not speak.

You didn't need him to. "Hello," you said in that same whispered voice. You introduced yourself, turning your palm up over the top of your knee as an invitation for some form of physical greeting.

He stared at your hand but did not move, at least not immediately. It was when you were about to retreat your hand when he slowly reached, moving at a snail's pace that you had all the patience in the world for. His fingertips brushed yours. You offered a ghost of a smile.

"I don't know why I'm here," you told him honestly. Your voice was a little stronger, but still just a quiet echo in the dome you blessed with silence. No one outside of your own personal partnered prison would hear you speak. He remained silent, and you accepted that silence.

"I don't know how I got here," you added, returning your hands to rest in a warm spot squished between your lap and your belly as you pulled your knees tighter to your chest. "I'm an actual sorceress, a witch… I've heard of Dream of the Endless, but I never thought I would ever meet you within my eternal life. I wish it was under better circumstances."

Your offered smile widened slightly, "Regardless, it's an honor." He took in your smile, and then he nodded once.

You sighed and looked around your prison once more. He watched your head bow as you stared at the fabric covering your knees. "I've been in captivity before," you whispered. "You'd think it would get easier, but it never does..."

Dream looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that held a depth rare to find. You gave another small smile, wanting to reassure him but finding no words to fit. You opened your mouth with the intention of easing his worries, but closed it when you thought of nothing.

So, instead, you told him a story. Surely the King of Dreams liked stories, didn't he?

"In 1457, I was a lady-in-waiting for a king's daughter," you began. Dream leaned back again and tilted his head as he listened. "The king's daughter loved the spring, it was her favorite time of year. Her father allowed her to plant in their gardens in the spring, and I was always there to supervise. One year, for her 12th birthday, I gifted her a seed I created. We planted it together, and she spent months trying to get it to grow."

You smiled, remembrance filling the hazy spots in your mind. "All through spring, the seed did not grow. Nor did it grow in the summer, or in the autumn months. As the weather grew colder, she began to lose hope that the seed would ever grow. She asked me why I gave her a fake seed, begged for an answer I never gave to her outside of riddles. She hated riddles."

You chuckled softly. "She also hated the winter, her mother had died of a winter sickness when she was young. She hated the cold and the dark, and she hated that her mother's flowers would never grow. So, one day, I took her to the gardens after it had snowed the night before. She kept begging me to let her go back inside."

You looked at him then, and he could have smiled at the glint of happiness in your eyes as you practically glowed with it. "I showed her the flower that grew from the water of the fallen snow, tempted by the bitter cold. She told me it was the most beautiful flower she'd ever seen. Every spring, until she was eventually married off to a prince across the world and I was relieved of my duty, I would give her the seed and we would wait for it to grow. Before she left with her new husband, she told me that I was the reason winter was her favorite season. She said she would miss me…and she said I was a mother to her."

You looked down at your lap, your smile faltered only slightly. "I never saw her after that, but every spring, for her birthday, I plant the flower and wait for it to grow."

He watched tentatively as you spoke, hanging onto every word with a wonder you had never seen before. You blushed and looked away, smiling at his undeniable beauty. Your smile fell suddenly as you looked up at him. "I'm sorry we're trapped here. Dreams are not meant to be held captive by dreamless men."

He tilted his head and watched you slump against the wall of the glass dome. You closed your eyes but did not sleep, choosing instead to relish in the silence between you as your spell crumbled away.

Roderick Burgess's cellar became your new home. The passage of time was slow, even for an immortal. Ten years felt like a snail crawl. Most days were filled with silence and stillness and more meaningless demands from your captor.

In ten years, you still had not heard Dream utter a single word. He was silent as the grave, and you did not urge him once to speak. You hardly spoke yourself.

Some days, you told him stories of your life. He liked your stories, the way you told them with a perfect narrative voice that was never more than a whisper. You told him happy stories, sad ones, ones with bittersweet endings that would leave him to wonder—and wonder, he did. He had to do something to fill the space of emptiness in every day.

Until one day was not met with emptiness.

You felt it before you saw anything, the magic of the creature approaching. Dream felt it before you. You watched his body extend as he looked around, touching the glass as he searched for something.

You heard the soft flap of wings as a bird approached. The raven, a beautiful bird with black feathers and a chest of white, flew into the room. She was amazing, as enchanting as the being she belonged to.

Dream reached for her, pressing his hands to the glass as she pecked and flapped and cawed against the wall. For the first time in years, for the first time ever, you saw hope flash behind his glittering eyes.

The King of Dreams smiled.

Your lips spread in a grin. He was so ethereal, the way he smiled like he had been granted sweet freedom. You hoped it was, sweet, sweet freedom as his raven pecked against the glass. It was so close, you could–

Bang!

You gasped, your back hit the back of the globe as you stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the blood that splattered against the glass. Horror shot through your spine as you stared, holding your breath in your constricting lungs. The raven, broken and bloody, lay lifeless on the ground. You sat and stared, mourning the atrocities of such a horrible death.

The thick, red ink slipped down the clear barrier like tar. "Idiot! You could have shot at the glass," Burgess's voice tore you violently from your shock.

You turned your head. The boy, not so much a boy anymore, held a shotgun as he stood across the room like a deer caught in headlights, wild eyes big and teary. "Clear that mess up." His father snatched the gun and stormed away.

Dream stared at the blood, he stared at the body of his dear friend. He watched as Alex Burgess reached out and scooped the bird into his hands.

Dream glared with a vengeance that you had never seen in your nine hundred years. For a moment, you believed the glass separating the two would shatter by the will of his rage.

It was weeks before Dream could even bring himself to look at you again. He mourned and grieved with silent tears.

It was weeks before you told Dream another story. This story was not a happy one, it was not one with a cheerful ending.

"I had a son."

Your voice was hoarse, broken and quiet from being unused for so long. Dream's eyes found you, he saw the unshed tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill.

You let out a shaky breath at the memory of your boy, sniffling as you shook your head. "He was born in 1626…three hundred years ago today. He got sick. While I would just get better, he was not immortal like me… He suffered for a month, and I could not cure him. He died in 1638, a twelve year old boy."

You chuckled, a watery sound filled with sorrow and regret. Dream swallowed thickly, his eyes filling with the same tears as she shared in your grief. You inhaled deeply, shaking your head and rubbing at your eyes. You still did not look at him.

“Before him, I had a daughter, 1294,” you said. “She looked like me, nearly a spitting image. My son had no gifts—as far as I knew—but she did, just a little… The village we lived in noticed that I did not age like other women, and she had too green a thumb. We were both accused of witchcraft.” You licked your lips and rubbed your arms absent-mindedly. “They burned down our house with us inside. She died screaming, and there was nothing I could do.”

When you finally looked at Dream, you were nearly shocked by the tears in his eyes. They were red-rimmed, filled with grief as he gazed at you with that same depth. You let out a long breath and wiped down your face, which was soaked by your tears. Your breath trembled again and you reached out a hand, grasping his without a request.

“I’m sorry about your raven, Dream,” you whispered, holding his hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Again, he swallowed thickly. His jaw clenched and he opened his mouth, his pink lips just barely parting.

He turned his head at the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. Burgess was back, it seemed. Dream’s mouth closed and he sat straighter again. You let go of his hand and steeled your face, your sorrow being replaced by the hatred you felt for the who had caused you and your prison mate so much suffering.

One decade turned to five, and you were still trapped with Dream. Five decades of sleepless days and nights. He took notice, saw the way you closed your eyes but never rested, the way you drifted but never slumbered. It took a while through the haze of your cloudy mind to realize his hand holding yours. It was gentle, cold skin grazing your knuckles with his thumb.

You looked at him and saw the way he watched you with a tilted head, pursed lips, and eyes filled with that same curiosity that gazed at you nearly every day. You could hardly pick any of it out. Your mind was so heavy as you lay slumped against the glass. You could barely sit upright anymore, you felt so weak with fifty years of insomniatic wakefulness weighing down on your shoulders.

You felt him gently squeeze your hand and looked at him with unfocused eyes. You tried to offer a smile to ease the worry you recognized in his gaze, but the drooping of your eyes defeated the purpose. You licked your lips and took in a breath that was far too slow to be ragged for him.

“In 1737,” your voice was feeble, a slow, broken whisper as you mustered strength enough to speak, “I had a bird, a wild mountain bluebird…I was sold by a family I worked under to a man going to North America. He gave me Eloise—that’s what I named her—as a peace offering to make me happy.” You looked down at Dream’s hand still grasping yours across the globe. “But she never sang,” you mumbled. “She was locked up so long, she didn’t want to, didn’t remember how.” You blinked slowly, though your lids hardly touched. “After a while…my owner grew disappointed… He killed her and got a trained parrot instead. I loved Eloise, she was like me…”

Dream understood why you told him the story. He learned long ago that they were your form of communication. He learned more and more about you with every story you told. After fifty years, you still had more to give.

Dream held your hand in a feather light touch. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of your palm. The action would have made you blush, it would have made you smile and wonder just what it might mean…but you were so tired that you convinced yourself you dreamt it. Why you dreamt it? You had no real clue.

All you did know was that, as he pulled away from you again, your hand still being stroked by his thumb, your eyes and your body were suddenly too heavy to hold it up anymore. Your eyes closed and your body felt numb as you slumped limply against the glass behind you. Your hazy mind felt a little less burdened, finally out of touch and away from realities you had no capacity to dream of. A dreamless sleep, it was, a peaceful sleep.

As your breathing became steady and your sleep settled over Dream, he let out a gentle sigh and nearly dared to smile. He shifted across the globe and pulled your body into his side. Your head fell softly onto his shoulder, and he did not move. Still holding your hand, he allowed you to sleep for however long it was that you needed. It seemed, you had all the time in the world as the glass entrapping you refused to give way.

A week had roughly passed before you awoke once more. Dream had not moved from your side, his own eyes closed as he rested but did not sleep. He felt your wakefulness before you realized you had awoken. Your mind was so much clearer, you could make out your own thoughts now as you came to. You had not been so lucid in decades.

Your eyes did not open for a long time, refusing to give up the peaceful hold that your dreamless sleep had on you. Dream’s eyes opened and his hand smoothed against the top of yours again. Your heart fluttered, but you did not open your eyes. You knew he knew you were awake.

Your response was silent, although your lips moved to form the words he just barely heard slip past your nearly unmoving lips. “Thank you.” A gentle, almost invisible nod moved Dream’s head. You felt his lips against the back of your palm—this time not as much a dream as the last—and smiled.

It was a strange day. Some number of decades in and Dream found you more…at ease than usual. You seemed lighter, and he found that curious. You noticed the look he was giving you. With roughly a century with no one but him, you'd grown to know his face like the back of your hand.

You offered him a smile, taking his hand—it had become a shared habit of yours, physical contact. "You remember when I told you about the man who bought me when he sailed to North America? The one who gifted me the bird?"

He nodded, just a slight tip of the head up and down. He shifted his body slightly. You were going to tell another story.

"Well, I wasn't the only woman he bought," you explained. "There were two others: a mother and her daughter, about eleven and twenty-seven. The girl and I were basically just maids. I cooked and cleaned—her mother and I taught her how. He'd taken her mother as his wife."

He inclined his head, listening to your every word as you told him probably the thousandth story by now. "I always told them stories—just like you—mostly her daughter though, she loved them."

You sat up a little straighter, shifting over so you sat next to him so your shoulders brushed together. You squeezed his hand gently.

"Once I told them a story about a general and his men going into battle. The army was smaller in size than their enemy, and all of the general's men were afraid they would lose. So the general took a coin and told his army that if it landed on heads, they would win, tails would lose. He tossed the coin, it landed, and he said 'heads'. His army was filled with a new confidence. They went to battle, fought, and won. After the battle, he told his men that the coin landed on tails."

You tilted your head as your smile spread, "She asked me why the general lied to his army. I said that he told them the coin was heads and not tails so they had hope. I told her that hope was the most important thing in the world. Then I pulled a coin and told her that if it landed on heads, we would be set free. If it landed on tails, we would live with the man forever. I flipped the coin, it landed on heads, and then I gave it to her. I said, 'As long as you hope for freedom, freedom will come.'"

He watched as you stared down at your hands, before meeting his gaze with that same smile. "She smiled at me and told me that…" you chuckled, "She told me she would dream of freedom that night. And she did, I saw it. I felt it."

Dream's brows knitted together. You felt her dream of freedom? It was so strange to him, to hear someone speak of dreams like old friends, like an emotion felt deep within your soul.

"At the end of the week, our owner received a letter from England stating his return. He'd been caught in illegal business and was being brought back for trial. He was found guilty. His marriage to the girl's mother and his ownership of us was rendered void, and we were free." You sighed gently, "The mother found a good man and married him, and I moved on to the next place."

Dream tilted his head.

You shifted again so you sat across from him, still holding both hands again. "Sometimes, good stories foreshadow good things."

Another riddle. His lips threatened to spread in a smile, he even almost let a chuckle slip through his lips as he shook his head and looked away again. You did chuckle, sitting back against the glass dome.

And it seemed you were right.

A couple of weeks passed, every day the same as the last with few or more stories and silence. Until one day, when old Alexander Burgess and his husband came to see you for the last time.

"I could have asked you for wealth or power, like my father did."

You tilted your head at his words, looking him up and down as he stood against the glass. Dream's gaze was just as hard.

"But all I ever wanted was to be free of you," he confessed. "Surely you want that, too."

Paul sighed, "Alex, darling, please."

Alex turned his head only slightly to his husband and just shook his head. He wheeled over his chair as Alex moved to sit in it. "Take me upstairs, Paul," he breathed.

He gave the both of you one last look with eyes aged from a dragging life. "I won't be coming down here again."

Paul turned the chair around. He hesitated for a moment before wheeling the chair away again.

The old wheels of the chair scraped away the golden markings of the seal. He broke the boundaries.

Paul looked over his shoulder once and then he left. You shared a look with Dream as the door to the cellar squeaked shut. He just nodded his hand, slow and definite.

The guards chattered, meaningless words you did not care for. You were gathering your strength. With the seal broken, you could access the world outside of this glass dome.

Dream leaned forward, pressing his hands against the glass. There was shouting coming from the second guard after a moment, a commotion that ripped you from your thoughts as you heard gunshots that echoed along the halls. A bright glow overtook the dark cellar, like a star had found its way to the deepest part of the house. A powerful magic swirled around you, strong and intense.

The glasses shattered underneath you. You stood unsteadily to your feet before you straightened once again. The guards continued to shout and yell over the howling wind and the blaring light.

It did not much matter to you. In the next moment, you were standing in the dark night in front of the house. The doors were large, grand dark wood designed with metal of silver and gold. You raised your hands and pressed it to the wood, closing your eyes as you began to chant.

"Wither and decay… Arescet et labe…"

You whispered the words at first, curling your fingers into the wood that began to splinter and cave under the dampening wood. Your fists clenched and a darkness spread throughout the wood and stone of the house. Like a plague, it spread from brick to brick, it soaked into the floors, the walls.

"Wither and decay… Arescet et labe..."

Your voice was stronger. You felt freer, liberated from your prison. The earth surrounding you fueled your magic as the house began to decay, as if it had sat there vacant and unattended for centuries upon centuries.

"Arescet et labe…"

The stony ground underneath your feet cracked like shattering glass. Dirt turned to ash, plants turned to moldy messes along the ground that was once green with life. It all turned black, black like a starless sky, black like a void.

"Arescet et labe!"

All the trees within a mile radius splintered in the distance, cracking and thundering as some fell with loud exclamations of their sudden deaths.

And then you were being pulled again. But this pull was different from the dark magic that gripped you a century ago. This was stronger, deeper, it felt like… home.

A bright light blinded you and you felt the heavy sensations of sleep seep into your skin. Your eyes closed.

“Y/N…”

A voice called your name, deep and soothing. It was alluring, like velvet against a starry sky. It filled your mind, your soul. It lifted you from your rest and brought you to life.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes fluttered open. They squinted as they attempted to focus on the figure in front of you. You saw the dark cloak first, long and billowing and filled with the stars in the universe. Pale skin brushed the apple of your cheek, cold knuckles grazed over your face. You focused on the face in front of you, the face you had gazed at for over a hundred years.

His blue eyes glittered like great seas. You saw a spark of a powerful spirit within them as you gazed. "Dream?" you spoke, willing yourself to stand. You set your hand underneath you and pushed up, slipping slightly when you came to terms with the dark sand under your palm. You heard the sound of the ocean lapping against land and turned your head to see it.

You looked back at Dream, saw his face glowing in an ethereal light. You smiled at him, a gentle smile that expressed your relief at being within his safe presence.

For the first time in a very long time, you saw Dream's smile reciprocated. It was small, but it was one of the most beautiful things you'd ever seen.

He held out his hand for you and helped you to stand to your feet. You stood on shaky legs for a moment as you steadied yourself. "Where are we?" you muttered as you looked around the dark beach.

He held your hand in his palm, the other came to sit innocently at your waist. His smile stuck to his lips like it was always meant to be there, like it would never wash away.

He spoke slowly, soothingly. The sound of his voice was worth his verbal neglect as it filled you with a sensation you could not describe with a single word.

"Forgive me for my silence this century long past," he said. "I am Morpheus, the King of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares.”

Your lips parted as you stared at him. You lost yourself in his twinkling gaze as his pink blushed cheeks complemented his smile. “Morpheus…” you whispered in reply. You glanced around once more, “Where are we?”

He shifted so that he stood beside you, his hand still holding yours as his other kept you steady. “This is my realm,” he explained. “The Dreaming.”

“It feels…”

“Strange?”

“Like…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words as you shook your head. “It feels like home.” Of course, there was something odd about the place, but it just felt…safe, warm, good. Morpheus’ brows knitted together at your description.

You did not notice. Your eyes had found someone else, someone who wasn’t a Burgess or one of his guards. She wore a suit, perfect and pressed. Her glasses sat perfectly at the bridge of her nose. Her clear head helped you see the sharp point of her ears. She offered you a smile, hesitant but kind as you looked at her.

“Hello,” you greeted her softly.

She nodded, “Hello. I am Lucienne, the Dreaming’s librarian.”

You smiled and looked at Morpheus, a knowing look in your eyes as you teased him. “So you do like stories?” He gave no verbal response, but you do swear you made him chuckle as he tried to hide his smile.

“Come,” he bid softly as he began to walk again toward the grand set of doors, “Let us talk more inside. It’s time you saw my kingdom.”

“Forgive me, sir, but…” Lucienne’s voice made him turn. He tilted his head as she spoke, sorrow and hesitance in her voice, “The realm, the palace... they are not as you left them.”

He let go of you and you moved to stand beside the librarian. You both shared a look, uncertainty in both your gazes. Morpheus raised his hand to the door that towered over the three of you like colossals. Morpheus showed no fear or intimidation, why would he? A king in his own realm, he knew this land like the back of his hand. And his land knew him. As his palm faced the doors, they began to open, obeying the will of their ruler to reveal a land that…

A land that was crumbling, decaying like a dying earth void of life.

You watched on as you began to take a few steps past the doors. It hardly went noticed by Dream, who turned to face Lucienne in a discussion about the events that had unfolded. You didn’t know what to do in this land of forgotten beauty, a land of dreams that had been turned to ash.

You were learning new things in the Dreaming, keeping yourself busy while Morpheus did the same. You soon learned why you became tangled in with the spell performed that caught Dream. It took a lot of researching with Lucienne—Morpheus had a few of his own questions to answer, why not occupy yourself?—but you finally found the answer.

You were a witch, you’ve known this since you began casting spells and learned you never aged. What you had not known was that your magic came from the Dreaming, powered through the link your soul has shared with this mystical realm since you were born. You had been dancing with dreams since the beginning, dancing around Dream since the beginning. So many almost meetings because of your own souls’ connection to one another that lay unconscious for the both of you.

Morpheus had only met two others that shared such a phenomena with you, two others that had taken residence in the Dreaming as dreams ever since. This was where you belonged, you felt it in your soul, in your heart. It’s where he was and where you wished to stay.

Morpheus embarked on an adventure to retrieve the tools that had been stolen from him during your captivity together. As his journey continued on, you found yourself wandering the Dreaming that was being rebuilt around you. He’d left almost immediately after he returned to begin his journey. You stayed behind. As much as you wanted to see the world that had changed within the last century you’d been locked away, leaving the Dreaming so soon felt all too strange.

When Morpheus finally returned from his quest, he seemed…distant. His face was fallen and his lungs were full of contentless sighs. Whenever you went to him, you could not help but wonder if he was alright. Freedom was sweet, but imprisonment lingered. You wondered if his imprisonment was still lingering in himself.

You wanted to reach out, to help him, to offer your aid in any way he would need…but you didn’t know how. You wanted to hold his hand, as you had done a countless amount of times during your captivity, and show him that you were still there. It seemed, since you’d been freed, he’d forgotten that you were there. You had already found yourself missing his presence, missing his soft touch and deep gazes.

You considered returning to the Waking World, returning to the home you had before all this to see what had become of it. But every time you prepared yourself to depart, you found him. He was there, looking at you with those all-encompassing eyes that pleaded for your stay without even realizing it. So you did, you stayed in the Dreaming, you stayed with him.

There was one day where he found you in the library. It wasn’t a strange occurrence. You often spent your time in the library when he was not there. You loved stories, telling and hearing them. They brought you joy, comfort. You felt his presence before you even saw him. It was hard for you not to tell he was around. Spending so much time with him made it impossible for him to remain anonymous to you.

“Hello, Morpheus,” you greeted him as you flipped through the book in your hand. It was a Shakespearean tragedy, one you’ve read many times before. You had met the young man a long time ago. You asked him what his inspiration was, he told you it was as if his dreams had come true. You chuckled to yourself. A dream come true. It seemed the both of you had been dancing around one another since before you were thrust together in a cage.

“Hello, Y/N,” he spoke in that velvety voice again. “How are you today?”

You finally looked at him with a smile, “I’m well. You?” He simply nodded, but his eyes seemed downcasted to the book in your hands. It wasn’t exactly a look of curiosity for the book—no, you knew his curious gaze too well to get it wrong. He seemed distracted, occupied by his thoughts which spoke to him in riddles.

You closed the book and set a hand on his forearm, tilting your head to tempt him into looking at you. “Are you alright?” you whispered gently.

He looked at you, his eyes lingering for a little too long as he gazed. His tongue poked out between his lips to wet them as he attempted to speak. “I…” he trailed off, trying to think of the words as he contemplated something in his mind. It seemed difficult for him to put his thoughts into words so that he may voice them to you. Especially as he looked at you, he couldn’t help but forget why he was here altogether.

“Morpheus?” you asked again.

He took in a deep breath before blowing it out in a gentle sigh and closing his mouth. Then he began to speak. “A long time ago…I met this man.” He knew he piqued your interest as you looked at him with eyes he was almost certain you didn’t know were wide with your curiosity. You set your book down on a shelf absent-mindedly, giving him your full attention as you listened. You loved stories, he knew you loved stories.

“He was of noble birth,” he continued, a smile reaching his face as he spoke, “noble title, a knight, a lord with riches and status and a lavish lifestyle any man could dream of. When I confronted him and asked him of his life’s value…he told me that he was utterly…” his smile faltered and his brows furrowed, “empty.”

He looked down at you when your head tilted once more, hanging onto his every word the same way that he had done to yours before in your glass container. He had not realized he reached up to grab your hand, just the brush of his fingers against the length of yours. Neither had you, the action had grown so familiar over the years.

“Nothing in his life granted him the happiness he so desperately craved.” He let out a breath, as if still astonished by the words of the man he’d spoken to so long ago. “I asked him why he was unhappy. Do you know what he said to me?”

You shook your head, lips parted as you listened. Morpheus found himself smiling, not at the story but at the look on your face. You were so…ethereal—a word you would blanch at if he used it for you, you spent so much time using it for him that the possibility of it for anyone else seemed out of the question now. His words were paced slowly, lulled and lilted in storytelling. You could listen to him speak for hours, listen to him tell you stories for the rest of your days.

“He told me that the only thing in the world that could fill the void in his heart…” he looked down at your partially joined hands before he suddenly lined them up. Your palms pressed together gently, his hand bigger in comparison to yours as he lingered there. “...was the heart of another to love him.”

Your eyes fluttered at his words. His eyes bore into yours, you could have sworn you could see the faint lining of tears as he continued to stare into the depths of your soul. “All he ever wanted was a partner to call his own, to hold and to be held by. He said that he would give anything in the world for someone to love.”

You watched him with flickering eyes. You watched as he curled his fingers between your own, intertwining them as he held your now joined hands in the air. His thumb stroked over the meat of the back of your palm. “I feel…” he mumbled as he trailed off, gazing still, “that I find myself understanding the weight of his words now in this moment.”

You held your breath as he held his own. You were close now, closer than you expected to be, closer than you had ever been—even after so many years as close. “Now that I stand before you and look into the eyes of a woman I wish to spend my own life with. If you will have me, I would ask you to fill the hole in my heart that I carry for you.”

Sometime during the last century, you had fallen for the King of Dreams. Of course you had—how could you not? For so many years, that truth was buried in your heart and hidden away from even yourself. As he spoke these words, as he told you of his desire to be with you, you realized that you shared his sentiments, his hopes and dreams.

And rather than answer him with a riddled story, you answered him with the press of your lips to his own.

His mouth was soft and warm, like pillows against your flesh. Although hesitant as he came to terms with your kiss, he melted against you like you had done with him. He held you in his arms, supported your weight effortlessly and gripped you in the hopes of never having to let you go.

Your lips molded perfectly with his, like the perfect pieces of a puzzle that were simply meant to be. It ignited your soul, sent a spark that gave life to an ember you would keep for the rest of your days. You held his hands tightly in yours between your bodies, thumbs stroking and fingers curling.

And, as you pulled away, it felt like you had been given a breath of fresh air as you stood and breathed for a moment. Eyes still fluttered closed, you allowed a smile to venture over your lips as they tingled at the sensation of his own. You nodded after a moment, still lost in the haze of his care. “Yes,” you whispered, finally opening your eyes to witness the joy twinkling in his own. “I want nothing more than to spend my life with you.”

His smile was the largest you had ever seen. It made your heart beat ruthlessly against your ribcage, thumping in your chest like the pounding of the drums of war. You couldn’t help the slight giggle, love-drunk and giddy, from slipping past your lips as you saw his contented smile. “Then I should call myself the happiest being in existence, my darling witch.”

You blushed and licked your lips. He bent down and captured them in a kiss once more.

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wolfmoonmusic · 1 year

Text

Calloused Hearts - 4

Summary: Trouble stirs, but maybe it was for the better. Or for the worse.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Tidemaker!reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Kaz’s touch aversion

w/c: 1.5k+

A/N: I'M BACK! And in view of sab ss2 I thought "what better way to start of than by continuing this beautiful fic?" so here I am.

I'm a tad bit rusty, so please sympathize. But here y'all go.

<<prev chapter

Chapter 4:

A week.

You’d spent a week getting better, gambling, teasing Jesper and hanging out with the crows.

But most of all, you’d spent a week avoiding Kaz.

Although at this point you couldn’t tell if you were avoiding him or if he was avoiding you. But, it seemed like a mix of the two.

You watched as he made his way down the stairs, your eyes temporarily diverting from the drink in front of you. Jesper cleared his throat next to you, earning a jab in his side from Wylan. “What?! It’s like a full blown romance novel!” Your head spun around, wide eyes landing on your friend. “Cut that out will you? He could hear you!” you whispered. “Well he already knows. ‘Till the tide goes sti-” you clapped your hand over his mouth, sending him a warning look.

Yes.

You’d told him. He’d found it rather amusing. However he didn't seem to understand the fact that it had to remain a secret. You pulled away, still watching him carefully as he held up his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered.

You turned back around to face Kaz, the familiar hollow feeling settling in your chest. He was talking to Inej now, the girl’s body language, a hand on her knives, worrying you.

“Something’s wrong,” you say, watching Kaz’s expression harden even from this distance.

And then his eyes are on yours.

Piercing. Hard. And yet again, unreadable.

His head tilted to the left slightly, the age old gesture causing you to spring to your feet. You pull at Jesper’s hand dragging him along, ignoring his protests about a drink going to waste.

It was weird. No matter how long you’d spent apart, the signal never changed. Your understanding of each other was still rather perfect. You followed Kaz and Inej up the stairs, the other crows following behind.

You couldn’t imagine what it was. What made Kaz call you up here along with the others? If he had to contact you all, why tell you directly? Why hadn’t he told anyone else?

Maybe. Just maybe…you were regaining his trust.

You all piled into his office, Inej sending a worried look your way.

Maybe not.

“Inej picked up on intel. Pekka Rollins is working with the stadwatch and Grisha now.” Kaz said, placing his hands on his desk and leaning over it.

“Why would he do that?” Jesper asked from next to you.

“Because then he hits two birds with one stone.”

What did he mean?

“I don’t get it,” Wylan responded, “ am I the only one that doesn’t get it?”

“No. I’m confused as well,” Nina added.

“He’s heard we’re harboring a Grisha that’s supposed to reward him with nearly 3 million kruge. And with the stadwatch’s help. He’ll take us down too.”

“3 million?” Jesper gawked.

Kaz wasn’t only keeping you away from Pekka. He was protecting you from the Grisha as well.

But he chose to not hand you over? Even if that meant losing 3 million kruge? And Pekka coming after him again?

“I’m sorry, Let me get this straight,” Inej started, “ You’re protecting her,” she said pointing to you, “even with a bounty of 3 million kruge over her head?”

You cowered away. 3 million could help them. Set them straight. Kaz didn’t even know the full story of what had happened to you. According to what he knew, you lived a luxurious life at the Little Palace. So why not get rid of you?

But what Kaz did next sent shivers down your spine.

“And what if I am Inej?” he asked, his tone menacing low.

The 7 of you stood there awkwardly, as you tried to stop your mind from racing.

What was Kaz thinking?

You felt an arm around your shoulders, and you did your best to stay still and not flinch at the sudden contact.

“Even if you’d decided to trade her off. I wouldn’t let you,” Jesper remarked, squeezing your shoulder lightly. He shrugged, “She’s the only fun one around here.”

You smiled at Jesper, catching the others nod from the corner of your eye.

“I don’t mean that you’re not fun to be around,” Inej smiled slightly. She turned to Kaz, “I just don’t understand him sometimes.”

Kaz’s eyes were on yours. His face was blank. His eyes, however, were swarming with all sorts of emotion. He seemed angry, confused, a little relieved and …jealous?

“If you understood him there’d be no point in his existence,” Nina chimed in.

His eyes landed on Nina, sending a glare her way, “I wanted to tell you all to be alert. Nina, see what you can find out from the stadwatch, and Inej, stick to the shadows.”

Both girls gave him quick nods, before leaving. “The rest of you, do your best to act normal,” he said, sorting through stuff on his desk.

“That’s our cue,” Jesper said, using his arm around you to guide you out, your head swarming with the information that had been laid out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night as you made your way to Kaz’s room, you had to remind yourself that there was no other logical explanation.

It had to be done.

Just as you were about to knock on the door, Kaz’s voice sounded from the room, “Come in.”

You closed the door behind you, walking in hesitantly, unsure of how you were going to tell him, and how he would take it.

But you didn’t have to.

“I won’t let you do it,” he said.

He was sitting on a chair, only one lantern illuminating the room, as shadows danced around.

You thought it depicted your heart quite well.

The light was in front of you. Disheveled hair, tired features, and an outstretched leg.

And the shadows were everything that had ever gone wrong in your life.

How much longer ‘till the light decided he was done glowing for you?

“Let me do what?” you asked, voice trembling slightly. You knew what he meant. But you couldn’t believe that he said it.

“I won’t let you turn yourself in.”

There it was.

“It’s 3 million kruge Kaz. That could get you all settled for life.”

“So what?” he asked, leaning forward. He was scarily calm, his face illuminated ever so slightly.

“So what?! So I’m saying that I should go. That I need to go. That it would keep Pekka off of you for a little while longer. Tha-”

“They’re all happy with you here.”

“Kaz-”

“They’ve warmed up to you quite fast. I’m not going to take that away from them.”

You shook your head. “3 million kruge is a lot. Imagine the wonders it would do for all of you.”

“And what about the wonders you do by being here?”

You froze.

“Nina finally has someone that gets her humor. Wylan sees you as an older sister. Jesper thinks of you as a platonic soulmate. You’re the only one Matthias doesn’t want to be all over and can tolerate. And Inej-”

“Doesn’t like me” you cut him off.

He tilted his head to the side. “You’re wrong. Yet again. She admires you.”

You shook your head. “She doesn’t trust me. She admires the fact that you haven’t kicked me out yet, there’s a difference.”

Kaz just watched you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Which I’m curious to know as well. 3 million kruge. PR, the stadwatch and grisha off of your back. What am I still doing here?” you ask, the words finally falling out of your mouth.

Kaz stilled. He looked away from you for a moment, before standing up and walking over to you.

You weren’t short, but Kaz had quite a few inches on you, and as he stood in front of you, eyes boring into yours, you felt your stomach do multiple flips.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered.

Your heart raced. “Why?” you asked, your eyes searching his.

He closed his eyes, and you felt his gloved hand over yours. Not holding your hand, not moving, just there. Your breath hitched, as his eyes opened again.

“Because, you said,” he paused, swallowing thickly as he visibly struggled to keep his eyes on yours, “you said - ‘till the tide goes still,” he looked away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. Your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t think he’d remember.

“Yes. I did. Why are you bringing that up now?” you whispered.

He looked at you again, his eyes fierce. “You didn’t hear me say it back that night.”

You couldn’t think. It seemed as though, just for a moment, the light in the room was a little brighter. Just for a moment. Because, he couldn’t have meant in the way you had. Could he?

But before you could ask, the door swung open. You spun around as Kaz stepped away from you, both in shock.

A confused, and worried looking Jesper stood in the doorway.

“I’m sorry for ruining,” he waved his arms around, “whatever this was. But, I can’t find Wylan.”

next chapter>>

Tags: @ancientbeing10 @lila-kille @emmnf1 @gabby10100 @foulkryptonitepeanut @pinchofhoney @peaches1958 @lyria-skyfall @sabii5

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